Bad Moon Rising
by MaggieMay21
Summary: Sequel to Red Hot Moon/ The Yellow-Eyed Demon wasn't kidding when it said it would finish off the Winchesters if the witch failed. He's on his way, and he's not happy. All this, while Sam is still teaching Dean how to live with being a wolf.
1. Wolves At Your Door

_Chapter 1_

* * *

It was a little awkward this full moon, Bobby had to admit. It had been about a month since the whole deal with Sam, Dean, John, and Jessica. But now that the witch was dead, they knew full well that the Yellow-Eyed Demon would make well on his promise.

Right as the witch was all set to sacrifice Dean so that Sam could be disembodied, the Demon showed up possessing Jessica and told the witch that if she were to fail in killing the Winchesters he would be back and do it for her.

They were sure that the Demon knew about him being alive by now.

Two nights after they all got away in one piece, Sam and Dean decided it would be best if they were to stay with Bobby for a little while. Bobby of course didn't mind, all except for tonight anyway.

He sat up late that night, doing some research. He was looking for omens of any sort that the Demon or any demon was close by. Alas, he found nothing.

With a book resting in his lap, Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face out of frustration as he heard a crash followed by a loud cluttered fall, and then soft growling.

Bobby closed the book in his lap, and then placed it on his desk with an annoyed slam. He rose to his feet, and rushed to the library to see what the crash was…as if he didn't know already.

He stopped in the doorway, and sighed when he noticed the damage. A large stack of books that once stood next to the other threshold now lay in a cluttered mess on the ground.

The culprits sat on the floor, looking up at Bobby with innocent eyes and their tongues lolling from their mouths.

"Don't give me that look!" Bobby snapped with a hard look.

The large wolves at his feet wagged their tails back and forth as if they were excited to see him. The brown wolf with unusual black patches hovered over the all black one, and seemed to be taking the lead in this little 'act cute' scheme.

"That's not gonna work, boys." Bobby informed, his anger fading into weak frustration.

The bigger brown wolf stood on his feet. He brushed his brother with his fluffy tail, telling him to give up the charade. He could smell that Bobby wasn't mad anymore, even if he wanted to act like he was.

Dean watched as Sam walked away, rubbing against Bobby's legs as he went – more like a cat than a wolf.

Dean hadn't been a wolf for all that long. Actually, this was only his second month. Sam had been good with teaching Dean how to live with this. It wasn't really as easy as Sam always made it seemed, Dean soon figured out.

There was a new voice in his head all the time that wasn't his own. Sam told him that most of the time it was easy to ignore, but sometimes it was stronger than he was. It was the wolf instinct.

And he didn't have to _just_ deal with it during the full moon, Dean discovered – but all the time. It was like a whisper in the back of his mind.

Not only that, but now he craved raw meat. He still ate regular food, thankfully. But raw meat was much more satisfying to his ravenous hunger.

Dean also found that he noticed little things about people that he never really noticed before. Sure, their scents and even the small sounds they made were magnified, but he was thinking more about body movements. The wolf in his mind was an expert at reading body language, and it always let Dean know it. More particularly, it was looking for means of submission from other people. It was as if his wolf were trying to evaluate what was easy prey and what should be left alone.

When Dean had confronted Sam about this, Sam only shrugged it off and told him it's all a part of the new instinct. It would fade in time, when he had more control over himself.

Dean got to his feet with a certain excitement, his eyes looking up at Bobby guiltily.

"Don't worry about it," Bobby grumbled, taking the look as an apology, "I'll clean this up."

Dean yipped with happiness before trailing off to find his brother.

Sam had gone up the stairs, and was sitting neatly on the floor just inside the bathroom – having kicked the door shut, but leaving it open just a crack so he could get out.

He needed to be alone for a moment. Tonight he didn't really feel all that up to par. Normally, he would be grateful for the full moon. But tonight it was raining, and gross out so it wasn't like they felt like hunting really.

No, tonight he felt his hackles rise and knew without a doubt that the demon was coming for him. He wasn't sure if the demon knew where he was exactly, but it was only a matter of time before he found out.

Sam had an awful feeling though, that the demon was close. Too close for comfort.

Heaving a tired sigh, Sam stood on his hind legs while he leaned his front paws on the counter in the little bathroom so he could get a look at himself in the mirror.

He in his wolf skin stared back at him in his reflection with an open mouth as he breathed sharply. If he were in his human shape, he knew he would look tired and drawn.

Falling back to the ground on all four paws, Sam startled as the bathroom door was nosed open slowly – revealing his older brother, who was also in his wolf skin.

He whined, and Sam knew he was asking if he was alright.

Sam nodded curtly, before nudging his brothers' snout with his own as he exited the bathroom.

Admittedly, Sam still felt a bit guilty for turning Dean the way he did – even though he wasn't in control at the time. But he knew that Dean was slowly but surely getting used to this life, he could tell from the look on his face, and the smell of his excitement as he ran around as wolf.

It was addicting, Sam knew.

As Sam was trudging down the stairs with Dean at his heel, he felt a light yet painful nip at his tail causing him to startle, and whirl around.

There stood Dean with a playful glint in his eyes as he nipped at the tip of Sam's tail again, daring him to fight back.

With a playfully light growl, Sam launched himself at his brother. And in a ball of brown and black fur, the two wolves tumbled down the stairs and into the living room.

Still lost in the fight as they landed in the living room, they managed to knock over a lamp with a loud crash. But Dean stood dominantly on top of Sam, and Sam wouldn't allow that.

He nipped at Dean's foot, causing Dean to jump a little – giving Sam leeway to roll out from under his brother.

Dean growled lightly, before pouncing on his little brother. And yet again they were a giant ball of wrestling fur in the middle of Bobby's living room.

They managed to knock over a tiny stack of books with another loud crash, and this time Bobby entered the room looking winded.

Sam pulled himself off of his brother, and sat squarely in front of Bobby again before throwing the look of 'puppy dog innocence' at him again. Dean saw what Sam was doing, and barked with laughter.

"I just got done cleaning one of your messes! And now I gotta clean another?" Bobby yelled at the wolves.

Sam whined pathetically before rolling onto his back to show Bobby his underbelly, a universal sign of submission… and Sam's only way to beg for mercy.

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Next time, I'm puttin' the both of you out like dogs!" Bobby threatened.

Sam looked over at the open window as streams of rain ran down the glass. He rolled back over, and sat up.

"Git!" Bobby yelled at the pair.

Sam yipped with excitement, and walked out of the living room with Dean following suit. They knew that Bobby wasn't really thrilled with cleaning up their messes, but it was raining and they were bored. So in the meantime, they acted like children.

Tomorrow, they would get back to hunting. They've been at Bobby's too long, Sam knew. It was time for them to take a case and get back into the swing of things.

But for now, Sam was feeling a little better. With Dean's playing, he had managed to pull Sam out of his ominous thoughts of the Demon.

And for that, Sam was thankful.

They were taking a chance by going back to hunting tomorrow, but it was a risk they had to take. They couldn't just put their lives on hold while innocent people were getting killed every day.

Sam sighed tiredly as he took a seat in the kitchen. Dean sat down next to him, looking at him curiously.

Sam huffed an annoyed breath, but glanced over at his brother.

He knew Dean was in this with him, and that he wasn't alone. But still, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that things were going to only get worse from here.

That Demon wasn't going to make their lives easy. Not even a little.

* * *

_Yay! I'm doing a sequel!!! :D_

_Haha, enjoy!_


	2. Suspect

_Chapter 2_

* * *

The next day wasn't as hard as any of them thought. It was actually rather easy getting back into the swing of things.

Sam and Dean woke up early, and did their usual morning routines before packing the car with the weapons and whatever else they felt they would need.

And by late morning, they were out of 'Singers Salvage Yard', and on their way to Chicago Illinois.

A woman named Meredith was found in her apartment a couple days ago, completely mutilated. She was ripped to pieces in her own home with the doors and windows locked. But just the day before that, a man was found in the exact same fashion.

They were thinking it was some standard vengeful spirit or something along those lines.

They'd been driving most of the day with the exception of a couple stops for food. But when the sun started to sink, they had to find a cheap motel to hole up for the night…seeing as it was the third and final night of the full moon for that month.

Once inside the cramped room they shifted quickly, but decided it would be best if they stayed in the room that night, seeing as they were right outside of a big city and two giant wolves running around would look a bit suspicious.

So, in their wolf forms they slept through the night.

The next morning was just as easy as the morning before. They groomed and dressed themselves, and where back on the road in no time.

By the time they got to Chicago it was early in the afternoon. They checked into a motel just inside the city, and brought their belongings in quickly.

Dean decided it would be best to go to the police station and see where the authorities were at with this case so far, so he gathered his keys and left Sam to himself for a while to research.

Sam pulled out his laptop as Dean walked out of the room, and started looking up local sites to see if there was any more news on this case.

Just their luck, there wasn't.

Sam then shut the laptop, and took a seat on his bed.

He couldn't really describe the feeling, but it was almost like a painful twist in his gut every time he thought of the Demon. He knew that it was getting closer and that it was only a matter of time before the thing showed up and killed his family.

But what would it do to him? He couldn't help but wonder.

The witch told Sam that the Demon had marked him somehow, so it saw him as its property or something. But when the witch changed him, the Demon's plan failed.

It no longer had any hold over Sam.

Where that was a good thing, it was also very bad.

But then again, thinking of the witch – another thought invaded Sam's mind. Why was it he was able to change Dean? He didn't get a chance to ask the witch before his father killed her, but it still bothered him - not that he wasn't grateful for a bit of company in this lifestyle, but the thought of _how_ it happened bothered him.

A bite? Really?

It was too simple; maybe she was crazier than he thought.

Sam's thoughts then quickly averted to Jessica, and he felt a pang of sadness in his stomach. He missed her like crazy, and wondered what she was doing right now.

He could always call her, he thought to himself.

But at the same time he knew he couldn't. What good would calling her do? All it would do was fill them both with false hope for his return to her. He wasn't sure he would make it out of this fight.

Last month, after the fight with the witch – Sam told Jessica that it was too dangerous for them to be together. He knew even then that the Demon wasn't lying when it said it would come for them if the witch failed. So Sam and Jessica were forced to part way, much to Sam's dismay.

After a few minutes of Sam's thoughts going into that dark place, his cellphone rang loudly from his pocket – which was enough to startle him from his thoughts.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, and answered it without looking at the ID.

"Hello?" Sam asked tiredly.

"Get dressed," Dean's voice said with a certain mirth that Sam didn't miss, "we're gonna swing by the dead chick's house."

"You on your way?" Sam asked curiously.

"I'm outside." Dean replied.

And sure enough, Sam's enhanced hearing picked up the grumbling sound of the Impala's engine as the car pulled into the motel parking lot.

Without answering, Sam hung up his phone and placed it on his bed as he stood and grabbed the dark blue uniform that lay on his brothers' bed he had laid out before.

Sam quickly redressed himself, and picked his phone back up and put it in the pocket of his uniform.

The uniform was only a disguise as a means to have the landlord let them in to the dead girl's apartment. They were posing as men from the security company.

When Sam was done, he quickly rushed out the front door and hopped in the passengers' seat of the Impala. Dean sat behind the wheel, while the engine was still running. Sam noticed that Dean was already in costume.

Dean pulled the Impala away from the motel parking lot, and drove a couple of blocks before parking in front of a large building, and then cutting the engine.

Sam and Dean then got out of the car, and Dean rolled his eyes as he looked at the apartment complex across the street.

"I'll tell ya," Dean began sounding annoyed, "Dad made it just fine without these _stupid_ costumes…I feel like a high school drama dork."

Sam didn't reply, he only rolled his eyes.

"What was that one play you did? Oh yea…'Our Town'…yea you were good, it was cute." Dean teased.

"Can we focus?" Sam asked irritably, "This is the only way we can get in to see the crime scene."

"Alright, alright." Dean replied with a laugh.

**xXx**

They talked to the landlord as she let them into Meredith's apartment. She said that the authorities were done with the place so they were free to investigate.

She confirmed that the alarm was on and the doors and windows were locked at the time of the attack. It was a silent attack also, the woman recalled. She said that she never heard anything, she didn't even notice anything until the body started to smell a few days later.

There were no signs of robbery, because nothing was taken or turned over. But Meredith lay on the bloodstained ground in pieces apparently.

Though now, there was nothing but blood splotches on the white carpet.

"In fact if I didn't know better," the landlord told them as she made her way toward the front door to leave them to their investigation, "I'd say a wild animal did it."

She then turned and walked out of the apartment building, before closing the door behind her.

"So what do you think?" Dean asked Sam immediately as Sam crouched down to get a closer look at the blood on the carpet.

Both Sam and Dean smelled the blood and death that surrounded them the moment they were let into the room. It immediately made their stomachs churn in hunger, a natural reaction with the wolf in them.

They suppressed the instinct, and did their job.

Sam took a short whiff of the carpet, and smelled something else. Something he couldn't make out…only because it was almost like whatever this was had no scent.

Well Sam had only ever come across one thing (that was still alive anyway) that could mask their scent. He growled lightly, as he stood to his full height.

"Demon." Sam replied roughly.

Dean looked at him in confusion as his nostrils flared.

"You sure?" He asked with disbelief.

"Yea," Sam replied with an irritable nod, "that Yellow-Eyed-Son-of-a-Bitch is the only one besides the witch who could mask their scent…the only thing I know of anyway."

"But why Meredith?" Dean asked quizzically as he pulled his EMF detector from his pocket and turned it on.

"I don't know." Sam replied honestly, "What'd you find out at the police station?"

"Yea," Dean said as if he were just remembering, "I spoke to…Amy – a perky officer of the law."

"What'd you find out?" Sam asked absently.

"Well…she loves tequila, and I mean –" Dean said with a tiny smile as he remembered flirting with the officer, "Oh and she has this little tattoo, just below her -"

"Dean!" Sam called, cutting Dean off angrily.

"Right," Dean snapped, coming back to the job at hand, "nothing we didn't already know…except for the one thing they're keeping out of the papers."

"What thing?" Sam prodded.

"Meredith's heart was missing." Dean informed knowingly.

"Her heart?" Sam questioned, suddenly confused.

"Yeah, her heart." Dean confirmed, "You sure it's a demon? This sounds more like…werewolf behavior."

"No, doesn't smell like a werewolf." Sam said quickly, "Plus this happened _days_ ago, Dean. You know the lunar cycle doesn't line up."

"But this is the second heart-free victim in town over the last two days." Dean argued.

"Well…guess we're gonna have to do some digging." Sam shot back, "I know what a werewolf smells like…and this isn't one. You're just gonna have to trust me on this."

"Alright." Dean said with a tiny nod.

"This means that the two victims have to have some sort of connection." Sam informed.

"Great." Dean muttered in frustration.

**xXx**

Later that night, Sam and Dean decided to unwind by having a couple rounds of beer at some bar that was close to their motel.

Well…_Dean_ decided to unwind…Sam brought his research with him.

As Sam skimmed through various newspaper clippings at a table in a far off corner, Dean was at the bar talking to the cute petite bartender with a big goofy flirtatious smile plastered on his face.

After a while, Sam had to start breathing through his mouth because the different scents around him were starting to sting his nostrils.

Dean on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit bothered by it.

Suddenly, something forceful knocked into Sam – causing his papers to fall to the floor. He growled irritably, but thankfully it was too loud for whoever knocked into him to hear it.

The woman who knocked into him was pretty small, actually. She had very short, bleached blond hair, and wore dark jeans with a yellow t-shirt under her red leather jacket.

She put her hands up to her mouth as she turned to face Sam, looking surprised.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She called to Sam as she bent over to help him pick up his papers.

"No, it's fine." Sam brushed off.

"No, I'm such a klutz!" she said, looking rather red – be it from embarrassment or drunkenness, Sam wasn't sure.

"It's fine, really." Sam muttered with a polite smile as he gathered all his papers off the floor, and from her hands. He then stood to his full height, as did she.

He placed the papers on his table, and extended his hand to the woman.

"No hard feelings," he said with his unwavering polite smile, "I'm Sam Winchester."

"Meg Masters." She introduced herself, as she took his hand.

After a while, they let go of the awkward handshake and placed their hands down at their sides.

Meg took in a deep breath, and smiled back at Sam.

"So what brings you to Chicago? I don't think I've seen you around here." Meg asked, making small talk.

"I'm on a road trip with my brother." Sam replied as he took his seat.

"That sounds like fun." Meg said sounding only a little enthused, "I have some friends over there I should get back to. Maybe I'll see you around, Sam."

"Yeah, sure." Sam replied with a nod, "Nice meeting you."

Meg nodded, and then walked away slowly. Out of habit, Sam breathed in through his nose and took a whiff of the stranger as she walked away from him.

His eyes widened as he stared off at her. She sat down at a table with a group of other people, and every once in a while she would turn to glance back at Sam.

He growled low in his throat, thankful that no one was around to hear it.

Meg Masters had no scent, Sam noticed.

She was officially suspect number one.


	3. Meg

_Chapter 3_

* * *

Sam gathered his papers from his table, and hurriedly walked past his brother who was still at the bar flirting with the cute bartender, and out the front door.

Dean saw this, and immediately ceased his flirting and excused himself from the bar to go follow his brother. Something had to have been bothering him; otherwise he wouldn't have just walked out like that.

Dean walked out of the bar, and immediately found Sam walking across the street toward the Impala in a rush.

"Sam!" Dean called worriedly as he hustled to catch up with his brother.

Sam slowed down a little as Dean finally caught up with him.

"What the hell happened?" Dean demanded.

"That girl." Sam spat vaguely.

"What girl?" Dean prodded, sounding a bit impatient.

"She bumped into me; she said it was an accident." Sam replied angrily, "I don't think it was."

"Why would you think that?" Dean asked with disbelief.

"I think she's the one who's behind the murders…she didn't have a scent." Sam explained a bit more calmly.

"Are you sure she didn't have a scent?" Dean asked as they came to a halt just in front of the Impala, "I mean, the bar was pretty packed. Maybe you just couldn't pick her scent up over everything else going on in there."

"No, I'm sure." Sam argued.

"Alright," Dean concluded with a nod, "how're we gonna find this chick?"

"She gave me a name." Sam replied with a drawn out sigh.

Dean's eyes widened at that.

"Sam…I've only got two explanations for her giving you her name." Dean said with a mirthless chuckle, "One, you're overreacting and clearly working too hard – and maybe she did have a scent, and you just didn't catch it. Or two, she didn't really have a scent like you said…and she's trying to draw us in."

"I'm gonna go with option number two." Sam replied hotly.

"Okay then," Dean replied with an eye-roll, "we just gotta find out what she wants. What's her name?"

"Meg Masters." Sam replied distantly as he turned his attention to the front door of the bar they just walked out of.

The turning of Sam's head and the averting of his eyes didn't go unnoticed by Dean. His body stiffened at his brothers' distance, but the wolf in him stirred with satisfaction at the small amount of submission Sam showed.

Dean had heard about actual wolves having staring contests for shows of dominance and submission, but he didn't think the same rules applied to them. But then again, Sam had never been around other wolves before last month.

Sam on the other hand, knew what he had done by looking away. But he was so flustered about Meg; he couldn't bring himself to care. He stifled a growl, and kept his eyes on the front door of the bar.

"Fine," Dean said with a small nod, finding it difficult to keep the content smile from his face, "I'm gonna go back to the motel and see if I can find any records of a Meg Masters. You hang tight here, and keep an eye on her."

Sam nodded in response, but didn't reply.

Dean turned and climbed in the drivers' seat of the Impala and started its engine with a loud drawn out grumble. As the car came to life, Dean pulled the car away from the curb and drove off back to the motel room.

Sam stood on the curb across the street from the bar, and hid himself in a small group of people so he would be hidden from Meg when she came out.

**xXx**

After a couple hours of watching the bar Meg still hadn't come out, much to Sam's dissatisfaction. He stood against the building across the street by the mouth of an alleyway between its neighbor. His arms were crossed over his chest as he watched the bar impatiently.

Sam jumped when his cellphone suddenly went off in his pocket. He sighed as he reached in his jeans pocket and retrieved it quickly.

He looked down at the phone in his hand, and saw that ID flashed 'Dean'.

"Hello?" Sam answered, sounding a bit winded.

_"Hey, whatcha doin'?" _Dean asked curiously.

"Still standing outside the bar." Sam replied a little angrily.

_"She hasn't come out yet? I dunno, Sam…that sounds like a pretty human move to make." _Dean said jokingly.

"Or she knows I'm waiting for her." Sam said simply, "Did you find anything?"

_"Yea…Meg Masters college student from Andover, Massachusetts…disappeared from there about a month ago for no apparent reason, it seems." _Dean explained, _"You thinking, demon?"_

"That's exactly what I'm thinking." Sam replied a little smugly.

Sam's head snapped up as a whirl of bright blonde caught his attention from just across the street. And sure enough, right on the corner next to the bar stood Meg looking both ways before crossing to the street Sam was on.

"Dean, I gotta go. She's here." Sam said hurriedly as he hung up the phone and shoved it back into his pocket without another word.

Meg walked past Sam, seemingly not noticing him at all as she kept up a hustling pace and kept her eyes straight forward.

Sam followed behind her quickly, but kept his distance so he wasn't noticed.

He flared his nostrils and inhaled sharply, but just like in the bar there was no scent. Even at that distance, there would have been a little something. So this only verified Sam's suspicions.

As she reached the end of the block, she looked both ways again before crossing the street in a rush. Sam did the same, and not once did he let her out of his sights.

He kept this up for a few blocks actually, until they were at least a couple miles or so away from the bar. He never let himself get detected, not even in her peripheral vision.

Meg hurried across the street diagonally so she reached the front door of a seemingly abandoned building, its exterior blue walls covered in mildew and graffiti. The dark brown door was blocked off by what looked like a rather new gate, which was padlocked, and sealed shut tight.

She looked around curiously as if to make sure no one had followed her as she pulled the key from her pocket, and opened the padlock, and then the gate.

Meg looked around one more time, before she opened the dark brown door and went inside.

Sam laughed inwardly to himself as he finally revealed himself after she was inside. He noticed that she didn't even lock the door behind her. He took it as a sign that she knew he was coming.

He growled to himself before going inside the building himself, closing the door behind him.

Now this was frustrating, Sam thought to himself. Usually there would be a scent to follow, but with this bitch there was nothing. So instead he listened for any sudden noises in the dark building.

He heard a buzzing of a machine, and smiled. It was the elevator, and she was going up. Well then he would just have to follow.

The buzzing suddenly stopped at a far distance, and Sam realized it must have made its stop. But why wasn't it coming back down? Cleaver demon.

He opened the gate to the old fashioned elevator, and then climbed up the shaft easily – grabbing at chains and balancing himself just right for what seemed like a while.

Finally there was an opening that was still gated off, and Sam peered inside, keeping low and out of sight.

Sure enough, there was Meg standing at a table…an alter, Sam noticed – and chanting in Latin as she held a large gray goblet in her hands.

The room was dark, but not too dark for him to see though he couldn't see what was on the alter because of the awkward angle he watched from. At a feeble attempt to light the room, there stood candles littering the alter, and the ground in puddles of wax, suggesting they'd been lit for a while.

Sam however, kept his distance. He didn't know what to expect from this girl, and he figured Dean should be there for backup.

That's when he noticed the smell. Meg may not have had a scent, but the room and everything in it smelled simply of blood, death, and rot.

Sam cringed, but listened to Meg nonetheless.

In the middle of her chanting, she stuck her pointer finger in the goblet in her hands and stirred whatever was in it. When she pulled her finger back out, it was covered in dark red blood – and she finally stopped chanting.

Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he felt a presence suddenly overtake the room. Someone else was here with them.

"The Winchesters are here." Meg said to the goblet in a deep, yet calm voice.

There was an inaudible whispering engulfing the room that made Sam's skin crawl. But whatever it was, Meg seemed to understand perfectly as she nodded.

"No…I wasn't followed. But what do you want me to do?" She asked almost desperately.

The whispering came again, and this time Sam was ready for it so it didn't affect him as intensely.

"Yes…tomorrow." Meg replied to the goblet with a shadow of a smile on her face, "I'll see you then…father."

And suddenly the presence was gone from the room, as Meg placed the goblet gently on the alter table. She looked around the room quickly, and then headed off towards a different exit…which Sam found rather suspicious.

Once he heard her get far enough away, Sam pulled himself up more, and then into the room. He heaved a tired sigh as he got to his feet and looked around the room at his new angle.

On the far side of the room, just across from the alter table lay an assortment of unlabelled boxes and crates.

The termite worn pillars in the room looked more like decoration than means of the rooms' stability. They simply weren't doing their jobs anymore, and Sam wondered how much longer they would hold out.

Then there was the alter table, Sam thought as he walked over to it.

On the white table cloth laid bones – old and rotted with age, and odd cryptic symbols drawn on a silver tray in dark blood. An assortment of dead herbs lay around the silver tray, and the blood-filled goblet Meg had been speaking to.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered to himself almost in disbelief.

What was Meg planning?

* * *

_I think some of you know where the Meg thing is going, but because I'm me...I'm putting my own little twist on it. :D_

_Trust me, this is gonna get epic...real fast. _


	4. Hot Blooded

_Chapter 4_

* * *

Sam stormed into the motel room in a mad rush. His mind was in a whirl, and all he kept thinking of was Meg and what he had seen, it barely registered with him to close the door behind him.

His eyes scanned the room as he hurriedly found Dean. His brother stood from his spot on the end of his bed, looking slightly surprised – but there was something else laying in his deep green orbs, Sam quickly noticed; panic.

Dean pushed himself to his feet quickly, and the brothers stood face to face.

"Dude I gotta talk to you!" Sam and Dean said in unison.

Dean made a gesture for Sam to sit down on his bed, and say what he had to say. After all, he himself wanted to know the deal with this Meg girl also.

So Sam went into a detailed story of how he followed Meg from the bar to an abandoned building. He explained how he felt as if she knew he were watching her, but didn't do anything about it. Dean only shrugged, and urged Sam to continue.

Sam then went on to say how Meg had set up an altar filled with really dark stuff, and how she seemed to be using the goblet filled with blood to speak to someone he wasn't sure who.

"What about that bowl she was talking to?" Dean asked, his eyebrows knit together in confusion as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"She was using it to communicate with someone…like the way witches used to scry through animal entrails, or whatever. But whoever she was talking to, this guy was giving her orders." Sam said sounding a little impatient.

Dean didn't say anything for a moment. He only scrubbed his hand down his face as if to relieve some of the exhaustion that clearly showed on his features.

"Someone," Sam continued seriously, "who's gonna be at that warehouse tomorrow night."

"Well…I don't really know where this all fits in," Dean began with a mirthless chuckle, "but I found a connection between to two victims while you were trailing that girl."

"Yea?"

"Yea…both of the vics lived here, but neither of them were born here." Dean said as he pulled out two papers from a small stack of papers next to Sam's open laptop where Dean had been doing research. He handed to two papers to Sam with a solemn expression on his face, "Check out where they're from."

Sam snagged the papers and his eyes scanned them both hungrily. They were the birth certificates of both of the victims, Sam noticed.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw that both of their places of birth were identical. And it added a whole new pile of questions.

Lawrence Kansas.

Sam placed the papers on the bed behind him, and ran both hands through his hair as if to try to wipe his mind clean.

"Holy crap." Sam muttered.

"Yea." Dean whispered back, sounding anxious.

"Lawrence is where the Demon killed mom…that is where it all started. That has to mean something, right?" Sam asked Dean nervously.

"I don't know, Sam!" Dean snapped.

"Should we call dad? Should we bring him into this?" Sam wondered out loud.

Dean thought that would be their best bet actually. This was major for them.

But then again…

"I don't think so." Dean replied sharply.

"Why not?" Sam demanded, sounding a little testy.

"Because…I don't think it's such a great idea. Last time we saw that son-of-a-bitch he said he was going to kill us if that witch didn't." Dean snapped back angrily, "I think this might be a set-up."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked impatiently, shaking his hands in emphasis, "Just sit here and do nothing?"

"I didn't say that," Dean said slyly, "I just said we shouldn't call dad."

"So how do you expect to kill this guy, Dean?" Sam asked bluntly, "Dad has the colt!"

"I have a plan." Dean replied with a wolfish grin.

**xXx**

The next night, Sam led Dean in the Impala to the warehouse where he had followed Meg to the previous night. Once outside, Dean drove past the building hurriedly, and slowed the black Impala to a crawl before parking it around the corner and out of sight from the building.

Both Sam and Dean got out of the car before closing their doors behind them with a look of pure determination on their faces. They'd been over the plan half a dozen times, but executing said plain is harder than just knowing it.

Neither Sam nor Dean carried any weapon on them. The only thing they had as a defense was their fathers' journal, which Sam kept, tucked away in his jacket.

They exchanged a quick wordless glance, before Sam lead the way into the warehouse through the entrance he went in last night.

Both Sam and Dean were extra careful not to make any noise as Dean followed his brother to where the old school elevator shaft was. And like the night before, the elevators' cart was already at the top.

Sam pushed the gate open, and began to climb up the shaft as he had done the night before, this time with Dean following suit. Now that he had the hang of it, it was a bit quicker for him to get to the room where Meg stood in front of the dark altar, in the dimly lit room.

Dean was a little slower on the other hand, but in no time – he was right at Sam's side, peering into the room for the first time with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

Faintly, they heard Meg's voice chanting in Latin, but Sam and Dean were busy hoisting themselves up onto the ledge in the room. Sam got up first, and slowly and silently – he slipped through the bars of the gate that separated the elevator shaft and the room, and then crept toward the crates directly behind Meg, and hid.

Dean did the same, with a little more difficulty – yet, he was just as silent as he passed the two pillars in the center of the room, and joined Sam in his hiding spot behind the crates.

Meg had her back turned away from the boys and the crates, as she faced the altar she had built. In her hands, she held the blood-filled goblet, and was still chanting softly. Though Sam couldn't help but notice that it wasn't the same chanting he heard the night before.

"You _know_," Meg said in a matter-of-factly tone loudly, "hiding's a little childish don't you think?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance at each other before turning to look back at Meg, who turned around to face them with a smug smirk plastered on her face.

"Why don't you come out?" Meg said playfully.

Without another word, Sam stood from his hiding spot and faced Meg with angry eyes. Dean however remained hidden, as he peeled off his clothing quickly.

"You too, Dean." Meg ordered, sounding almost bored.

At Meg's words, Dean pushed his body gently as the familiar and welcome adrenaline rush assaulted his veins as his bone structure began to snap and shudder into a new shape.

Sam looked down at his brother, and couldn't help but smile softly. He had to admire the wolf Dean had become in only a months' time…even though he hadn't fully accepted its full meaning yet.

Meg crossed her arms over her chest, and glared daggers at Sam.

"What's he doing?" Meg demanded.

Sam looked up at the girl, and his smile turned from one of pride to a smile of slyness.

"Changing." Sam replied curtly.

The last of the transformation his Dean hard like a ton of bricks as his whole body burst into the familiar, yet uncomfortable itchy sensation as thick, black fur sprout from his body.

Where Dean the man once stood, now stood Dean the wolf. He shook his thick mane quickly, before scratching behind his right ear with his hind leg.

He then stood upright, and looked up at his brother, who was now looking back at him with certain eagerness.

Dean nodded at Sam, and then emerged from behind the boxes. He faced Meg with an icy look of fury as he pulled his snout into a snarl.

Meg looked at the giant black wolf as it walked confidently out from behind the crates. She knew it was Dean, but still – this was a remarkable being.

Personally, Meg had never seen either of them in their wolf-skin. But she was told about them. She knew that Dean was all black, and Sam had an unusual pattern of brown and black – almost like a Siamese cat, only darker – and much furrier (and of course more canine).

But seeing just one up close was interesting. Dean had never been taller than Sam in human form, but Meg couldn't help but wonder what it was like in wolf form.

Now, Dean stood at Sam's hips on all fours. That was impressive, because Sam was _not_ a small man at a whopping 6'4.

Meg's face never altered though. There she stood with her arms crossed over her chest as she observed the brothers intently.

"Gonna sic your dog on me?" Meg asked Sam coyly, with her eyes trained on Dean.

The black wolf at Sam's side growled deeply, exposing his impressive sharp white fangs. His expression told Meg that he was willing to kill.

That's fine, she thought to herself. So was she.

"That's a thought." Sam replied with a small half smile.

"You're not at any advantage here, Sammy." Meg said softly, her smile never faltering.

Sam only shrugged, he didn't respond though. He wasn't sure if she was right, or if it was just her ego saying she was stronger than them.

"Who're you waiting for, Meg?" Sam demanded seriously, figuring they had stalled enough.

"You…" Meg replied with a piercing look in Dean's direction, before shifting her gaze back to Sam.

With that, she flung her hand outwards toward Sam with a forceful look on her face. And Sam was hurtled backwards by an invisible force toward the crates he had just hidden behind with a loud _'CRASH', _his face twisted in surprise.

He sat on the cold concrete floor with the now broken crates supporting his back. He growled deeply in his throat as he forced his eyes open, and glared at Meg venomously. He felt a warm liquid slide slowly down the back of his head, and smelled blood.

He heard angry growls that were not his own, coming from just left of him – and snapped his attention to the large black wolf. Dean pounced with his full weight on Meg's tiny frame with a murderous glint in his eyes. She was instantly knocked to the ground with a surprised grunt, under the wolf's weight.

Shaking his head of the grogginess, Sam saw this as his opportunity. He sat up a little bit more, and ignored the double vision from his sudden movements causing the bile rise in his throat. He groaned, and swallowed as he reached in his jacket, and withdrew their fathers' journal.

When Sam's vision returned, he opened the leather-bound journal, and looked up at Meg and his brother. Dean was fighting Meg and his own instincts very hard – Sam saw with admiration.

Dean tried as hard as he could to defeat this girl, but he held back. He wouldn't bite her, Sam noticed. The large black wolf would snap his jaws for show, but he wouldn't sink his teeth into her flesh. And Sam knew that it was because he was terrified of possibly turning his girl…or at least the vessel.

So for the meantime, Dean stuck to swiping the girls' face with his massively sharp claws, and keeping his weight on her. It seemed to distract her, anyway.

Sam then drew his attention back to the journal in his hands, and loudly began to read off the Latin exorcism ritual.

His nostrils flared when her magic seemed to slip at that moment. Whatever masking spell this demon had cast on herself faded, and suddenly the smell of sulfur filled the air in the large room.

Sam heard as Dean's attacks became more frantic, and he was sure his brother could smell it too.

But Sam read on, his voice deepening into a growl as he forced himself to continue with the exorcism.

"I'LL KILL THE BOTH OF YOU!" Meg swore darkly.

Sam paused from reading, and looked over at the small brawl between wolf and demon. Meg seemed to be writhing on the ground, and the only thing holding her down was Dean's body.

She sat up a little, and Sam saw that her eyes were jet-black. But then Dean put heavy paws on her chest and snarled at her, as if the move had been an intentional escape attempt.

Sam sighed before looking back down at the journal, and read off more of the ritual.

"When I'm done with the both of you," Meg said in a surprisingly calmer tone, "I'll gut daddy, and everyone else you ever loved!"

Dean roared spitefully at her words, and Sam could tell that his brothers' control was slipping significantly. All the wolf wanted to do was tear into this meat that insulted their father; their pack.

Without further hesitation, Sam read off the last of the Latin ritual.

There was a loud scream, and Sam's attention was drawn to Meg and Dean again. His eyes widened as a large cloud of black smoke ejected from the screaming blonde girls' mouth in a rapid motion. The black smoke hit the ceiling, and then seemed to almost vanish.

The girls' screams finally came to a halt, and her body crumbled to the ground – still under Dean's weight.

The black wolf stepped off the girl; his eyes squinted as he stared down at her intently. Sam could smell his brothers' emotions still raging high.

"Dean." Sam grunted tiredly as he felt the blood on the back of his head slip down his neck.

The wolf turned his brilliant green eyes on his brother, before remembering that Sam was hurt.

Dean whimpered as he made his way toward his brother, and nudged his chest with his snout.

Sam placed the journal back into his jacket, and curled his fingers in his brothers' dark fur for a couple minutes. He knew this head injury wouldn't kill him, but while it healed it still took a lot out of him.

Wolves like him and Dean were hard to kill.

Dean whined sadly into Sam's chest, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle tiredly.

"I'm fine…just gimmie a minute." Sam assured before nudging his head in the unconscious girls' direction, "Check on the girl. Is she alive?"

Dean huffed a winded breath, before doing as Sam asked. He turned and walked slowly toward the limp blonde on the ground.

He stuck his nose in her hair, before moving it down just below her jaw but still above her neck. He inhaled deeply for a moment before resorting to smaller sniffs.

A moment later he looked up to catch Sam's curious eyes. And with a remorseful look, Dean shook his head sorrowfully. It seemed the demon rode the girls' body a little too hard.

Sam slammed his clenched fist on the ground with frustration. They were too late to save her.

* * *

_Sorry this update is so late, guys. I've been real sick, and still am a bit. :\_

_But there should be much more fun to come!_


	5. Dominance

_Chapter 5_

* * *

A couple hours later, after Sam and Dean finally finished with clean-up, (as in – tossing the poor girls' body, and burning the altar.) they stood in the elevator going up to their current room.

Sam had his duffel slung over his shoulder, which earned him curious looks from Dean every once in awhile once he adjusted to straps on his shoulder.

"What's with the bag?" Dean finally asked when the elevator doors opened, and they stepped out onto their floor.

Sam gave a half shrug. Honestly, he had a feeling deep in his gut that this wasn't over. What was going on with this Meg girl was just the tip of the iceberg. Something else was coming for them.

"Better safe than sorry." Sam replied vaguely.

Dean gave Sam an incredulous look, but didn't press the matter any further.

They turned the corner into another hallway with doors on either side of them. Their door was the first one to their left. As Sam again adjusted the strap on his shoulder, Dean fished the room key from his jacket pocket, and stuck it in the hole.

Once the door opened, they caught a whiff of another presence. Sam's upper lip curled up instinctively as he dropped his bag to the ground with the door still open behind him.

Dean pulled his gun from his waistband, and directed it at the figure sitting on his bed concealed by shadow.

"Hey!" He called to the man angrily.

Temporary or not, for the time being – this was his and his brothers' territory, and this man was trespassing.

After a moment, Sam finally recognized the scent and his eyes widened. He placed a gentle hand on Dean's arm, signaling him to lower his piece.

Dean gave Sam a wide-eyed glare, which Sam didn't return. He only kept his eyes on the man.

Finally, the man stood from Dean's bed and turned to face them with a wide smile on his scruffy face.

"Dad?" Dean asked in disbelief.

John Winchester stood before them looking over both of them with watery eyes. In that moment, he looked genuinely happy.

Dean lowered his weapon, and hurriedly stuffed it out of sight.

"Hey boys." John greeted in a hoarse voice.

"What're you doing here?" Sam asked curiously, he sounded surprised and happy all at the same time when only a moment ago he was testy and agitated.

Dean looked over at his brother, then back to their father and nodded, also wanting to know the answer to Sam's question.

"I've been following some demons for a few weeks," John began honestly, "a couple days ago, they just booked up here. Then tonight I get a call from some chick saying she…"

John trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. He coughed, and lowered his head – but didn't avert his eyes from his sons.

"Had us?" Sam offered, his voice cracking on the last word.

John nodded simply.

"She lied," Dean said with a half smile, "we had a plan."

"I noticed," John said proudly, "I got there just in time to see her get exorcised."

He turned his gaze to Sam with an approving nod.

"Good job, boys."

Neither Sam nor Dean replied. They only nodded at their fathers' compliment.

Sam kicked the door closed behind him, and chanced a couple steps forward.

"There are more demons here." John informed them seriously, "That's why I came here."

"You're here to warn us?" Dean asked with wide eyes.

"They're here under the Yellow-Eyed-Demon's orders," John continued, "they're here for Sam."

Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably, and stifled a growl. He knew the demons would be after him, eventually. He felt it for a while. But to hear it outright from their father was unnerving.

Dean took a subconscious half step in front of Sam, with a protective glint in his eyes.

"They're not gonna get him." Dean said flatly as if he were completely sure of it.

Sam's more wolf instinct wanted to let Dean know that he didn't need any protecting; he was dominant enough to take care of himself. But his human state of mind won over, and he did nothing – he let Dean be the big brother, if only just for a moment.

Their father turned his gaze to Dean, and his eyes lingered on his eldest son for a while before finally opening his mouth to change the subject.

"How're you doing?" John asked Dean in a low tone, "Last time I saw you, you weren't too good."

He didn't need to elaborate. Both Sam and Dean knew exactly what he was talking about. He was asking if Dean had accepted what he has become yet; the wolf.

"I'm gettin' there." He replied honestly, albeit a bit vaguely.

John nodded in understanding, but still looked uncomfortable.

Sam knew that it was hard for their father to think of what his sons had become. Even though for all intents and purposes, they weren't foaming-at-the-mouth monsters – they weren't human either.

And because of their way of life, John had grown to hate what wasn't human.

Sam had been this way for most of his life, and still John hadn't fully accepted it. He didn't necessarily hate his children, and honestly – after last month, he didn't even hate what they were anymore…but he still didn't approve of it.

But he was at least learning to accept it, which was enough for Sam.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy feet coming from outside of the room caused Sam to turn his head toward the door. Dean looked at Sam quizzically, before also looking back at the door.

The steps came to a halt just outside of their door.

Dean's upper lip curled up into a silent snarl.

"Someone's outside the door." Sam mouthed to their father.

"How many?" John mouthed back as he withdrew his pistol from his waistband.

Sam took a slow and silent step backwards toward the door, and listened in.

"Two." He whispered.

"Demons?" John asked.

Sam pressed his face up against the door, and sniffed intently. It only took him a moment before he found the scent he was looking for.

He pulled his head from the door, and nodded once at his father.

John sighed as he placed his pistol back into its hiding spot, and tucked his hand into his unzipped leather jacket. A moment later, he pulled out the Colt.

Sam and Dean took the hint, and knew exactly what to do.

Dean hid behind the door, while Sam stood with his back pressed against the wall on the other side. Dean reached over, and put his hand on the doorknob while he waited for his father to give him the say-so.

"Now!" John whispered frantically as he pulled back the hammer, readying himself.

And in once swift movement, Dean opened turned the doorknob and pulled the door open with him as he whirled against the other wall. Once the door was opened, Sam quickly reached out into the hallway and pulled the two demons in the room with a loud growl.

Dean slammed the door shut once Sam was in the room with the demons.

Sam shoved the demons on his bed, and the Winchesters stared down at their visitors defensively.

John held the Colt out, pointing it at the forehead of the short middle-aged balding man with black eyes.

"What are you doing here?" John demanded.

The woman next to her partner with slick long black hair, and matching black eyes smirked up at John before answering.

"We're here to collect your youngest." She replied honestly.

Sam was about to growl, when Dean cut him off and growled first. Sam's attention turned to his brother, and silent anger flashed through him. Sam knew it was his wolf that was angry, only once had he ever had to compete with other wolves…and they were all dead.

He knew Dean was still young and new at this, but both of their instincts told each of them that they were more dominant...and Sam knew that, that's just a fight waiting to happen.

But now wasn't the time to think about that, he had to remind himself. He shook his head, trying to clear it and turned his eyes toward the demons again.

Sam's eyes flashed gold for a brief moment as he silenced his wolf instinct.

"Dean." John said softly, trying to reel Dean in; oblivious to Sam's inner dilemma.

Dean looked up at his father, and then nodded before looking back down at the demons.

"What do you want with Sam?" John asked intently.

"Masters' orders," the man replied with a cocky grin as he shrugged, "I don't ask…I just do what I'm told."

"Are there any more here?" Sam asked angrily, his voice slightly hoarse which didn't go unnoticed by Dean.

Dean looked over at his brother briefly and saw a thin sweat on his forehead, like he was struggling with something. He figured he would ask about it later, when the demons were disposed of.

"Not here." The woman answered honestly as her black eyes locked on the Colt in John's hands as he aimed it at her face, "But there are others waiting somewhere else. And if we don't show up in exactly a half hour, more will be sent out."

"Lots more." The man chimed in with a look of pure joy on his face.

"Thirty minutes?" John asked as he looked up at the wall clock hanging on the wall just next to the door. At the moment, it was ten past two in the morning.

The demons both looked up at the clock as well, and adopted the same cocky smirks on their faces.

"More like twenty, now." The woman replied with a shrug.

"Better think fast." The man interjected.

Knowing there was nothing else they could get from the demons; John shot the woman square in the forehead, and then the man.

Their bodies arched off the bed, as a harsh bright yellow glow beneath their skin erupted. John knew in that moment that both the demons and the bodies they were riding were now dead, before the bodies even stopped glowing, and lay still.

John then quickly hid the Colt back in his jacket.

"Get your things and get outta town, now! That's an order." John said strictly, looking directly at Dean.

"Yes sir." Dean said without argument.

"Why?" Sam pressed.

Dean rolled his eyes and put his hands on his brothers' chest gently nudging him toward where their bags lay on the ground.

"Because he said so!" Dean snapped, "Now move your ass!"

Not being able to hold it back, Sam snarled at his brother angrily - his eyes flashing gold again. This time, Dean caught it.

Dean returned the gesture, his own eyes flashing bright blue.

"Boys! Enough!" John snapped, "Now I've given you an order! Those demons are coming, and it's too dangerous for us to be together right now!"

That was enough to get Dean to snap out of his wolfs hold. He blinked as his eyes changed back to his usual green.

Sam too relaxed once his brother gave up the staring contest, knowing full well that he just won that round.

"You're going after the demon?" Sam asked, sounding a little winded.

John didn't reply he only glared at his youngest.

"We gotta be a part of this fight, dad!" Sam yelled, imploring his father to see reason, "It's me that son-of-a-bitch is after!"

"This fight is just starting!" John said loudly, "And we will all have a part to play…but for now, it's too dangerous for us to be together."

"He's right." Dean said softly.

Sam turned his eyes toward his brother curiously.

"Sam, dad's right…we're not ready yet." Dean said simply.

"So what do we do, now?" Sam asked, angrily.

"We'll worry about that later." Dean replied, carefully keeping his voice leveled so he didn't put Sam on edge, "But now, let's get the hell outta here…please."

Sam looked back and forth between his brother and father for a moment before nodding in agreement. He hated to admit it, but Dean was right about this one.

John walked over to Dean, and pulled him into a tight hug. It was something they didn't do often, but they didn't know when the next time they would see each other would be.

When Dean finally pulled away, John turned to Sam and did the same thing with his youngest.

"Stay safe." John muttered into Sam's shoulder.

Sam nodded sadly, breathing in his fathers' scent.

"You too." He said in a hoarse whisper.

When they pulled away John gave his boys one last look, before walking out the door.

Sam and Dean quickly picked up their duffel bags, and stuffed their belongings into them – careful to avoid touching the dead bodies, before Dean walked around the room one last time, wiping down fingerprints.

Once packed, they left the room with their bags hefted over their shoulders without saying a word to each other.

Sam couldn't help but think about what just happened back in that room. He had been with Dean and his wolf instinct for a month now, and it was never really much of a problem.

But now days, Dean's wolf seemed to be exerting more dominance. Sam knew that spelled trouble though, because for _years_ he was the dominant wolf.

And he never had to fight to keep that position with his family.

In nature, Sam knew that two dominant wolves in the same pack fought out which was higher ranking…not often did those fights lead to death, but it still happened. Not to mention a bruised ego.

Sam sighed as they reached the elevator. He guessed while Dean learned to live with his wolf, _he _would have to learn how to live with another dominant…without it ending in bloodshed.

* * *

_Another chapter in the bag. Haha. Lemmie know what you think, guys. Feedback is always appreciated. :)_


	6. A Well Respected Man

_Chapter 6_

* * *

A few days later, Sam and Dean arrived in Saginaw, Michigan. From the looks of it, some sort of angry spirit or a poltergeist has targeted this one family – the Millers. At first it looked like Jim Miller committed suicide, he locked himself in his car in the garage, and died from inhaling the car fumes.

But then a few days later, his brother decapitated himself at his apartment. The window shut on his neck.

Sam and Dean figured they should at the very least check it out and see if they could do anything.

Sam sat in the horribly small, cramped motel room looking over papers and documents. Specifically, he was looking for anything tragic, or some sort of dark history involving the family. But so far he hasn't found anything.

Yesterday, he and Dean went so far as to dress as priests to gain the victims widow's trust so they could come in and question her and her son.

Dean had excused himself from Mrs. Miller with an excuse of having to go to the bathroom, and quickly swept the house with the EMF meter, and found nothing.

Sam on the other hand, questioned Mrs. Miller's son, Max. He was about Sam's age, and he was the one who found his father in the garage. He seemed broken up about it, and scared for some reason.

Dean suddenly walked in the motel room with two brown paper bags, and two cups with straws. His eyes immediately found Sam looking slightly distressed on the bed, but quickly looked down to his feet as he closed the door behind him.

They hadn't spoken much in the past few days about anything other than the case.

Sam thought it was just as well though. How could he possibly explain to Dean that he was struggling with these instincts? _He_ was supposed to be teaching Dean how to keep _his_ instincts under wraps, and suddenly he couldn't get a handle on his own.

It made him feel like a hypocrite.

But he knew the conversation would come up eventually…and he definitely couldn't lie to Dean. But in his defense, he's never spent so much time with another dominant wolf.

Things would even out eventually…he hoped.

"What'd you get?" Dean asked as he stuck the straw sticking out from the cup, into his mouth before maneuvering his left arm to plop the bags of food on the table by the front door.

"Nothing weird with the property," Sam admitted sounding rather bored, "and nothing weird with the family itself. No reason why their family would be cursed…nothing on the surface anyways."

"What do you mean nothing on the surface?" Dean asked as he took a seat on the bed adjacent to the one Sam sat on with his drink in hand.

"Just means we'll have to dig a little deeper." Sam replied with a shrug, "Talk to some of their friends, some of their neighbors…that kinda thing."

"Should be fun." Dean commented sarcastically as he placed his cup on the nightstand that stood between the two beds, up against the wall.

"So what now?" Sam asked as he put all his papers in a neat pile before stuffing them under his bed, and out of sight.

"Sleep, I guess." Dean replied sounding unsure, "I mean there's not much else we can do tonight."

"Right." Sam muttered with a tiny nod. He kept his eyes on Dean's feet, careful not to make eye contact. He didn't feel like playing dominance games tonight.

There was a long pregnant pause in the room before Dean took an uncomfortable breath and turned his gaze to his brother expectantly.

"Sam, when are gonna talk about this?" Dean demanded.

"Talk about what?" Sam asked sounding surprised.

Dean adjusted his position on the bed, a clear sign to show how uncomfortable he was with this conversation. But he sucked it up, and continued.

"Now, you know I'm not the sharing-and-caring type." He begun with a somewhat snarky grin before becoming serious again, "But you've been freaking me out for the past few days. You don't ever look at me, you're on edge constantly, and oh right – you friggin _growled_ at me the other day!"

Sam didn't reply, instead he lowered his head to conceal the brightness of his cheeks. Dean didn't comment on the motion.

"Now…I feel this…whatever this is – this _instinct_, or whatever. It was confusing at first, but it's a little bit clearer to me now."

Sam raised his head a little, and looked into his brothers' face – but still not his eyes. He kept his gaze fixed on the bridge of Dean's nose.

"You know a lot more about this stuff than I do, Sam." Dean admitted with a sigh. "You're supposed to be helping me with this…so tell me what's going on. I wanna know if I'm right."

Sam blinked with confusion, but didn't respond right away. Dean was looking into Sam's face, but after a few moments Dean realized he wasn't looking in his eyes – which he was grateful for.

After a few moments of just looking into Dean's face, Sam sighed and sat up straight.

Dean recognized the action quickly, he knew too well that Sam was uncomfortable with this random topic of discussion, and he had given it a lot of thought. Good, Dean thought to himself, so had he.

"Seriously Dean…this is all kinda new to me too." Sam responded somewhat vaguely, sounding almost ashamed.

"How is any of this new to you?" Dean wondered out loud, "I mean you've been this way your whole life, Sam."

"True," Sam replied with a tiny nod, "but I've never had another wolf to deal with all day every day."

For a moment Dean looked taken aback, and even slightly offended. But he figured he'd let Sam explain first before snapping on him with the whole '_you_ were the one who turned me' argument.

"It's like…this instinct that I've had my whole life, that I've gotten so used to, that I tend to listen to a lot of the time has suddenly turned on me." Sam tried to explain.

"What do you mean, turned on you?" Dean asked curiously.

Sam sighed again and looked over at the window, trying desperately to put his feelings into words so Dean would understand.

"I mean, in wolf terms – you and dad…you've always been pack to me." Sam admitted, cringing slightly at the word 'pack', "But now with you being turned, all I think ever is which one of us is more dominant."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at his brothers' words, and nodded in understanding. He too had been feeling the same way, he knew his wolf wanted to know which one of them was strong enough to be alpha.

"You wanna know which of us could be alpha?" Dean asked before actually thinking about what he was asking out loud.

"There are only two of us Dean," Sam argued, "not really enough for an actual pack…but we can see which is more dominant."

Dean nodded in understanding, but definitely not agreement. Even though the wolf in his subconscious desperately wanted to know which of the two of them should be appointed the leader, his human mind was far more reasonable.

And even though Sam didn't remember what it felt like, Dean remembered all too well what it was like to be human.

"Ignore it." Dean said simply.

Sam's eyes snapped to Dean's face wide with surprise.

"Come again?" Sam demanded.

"The instinct," Dean elaborated with a shrug, "ignore it."

Sam rolled his eyes, Dean couldn't be serious.

"How do you expect to do that, genius?" Sam asked incredulously.

Dean gave a cocky one sided shrug before continuing.

"That dominance instinct…it'll possibly wind up killing one of us…or someone else. I mean with what we do, someone else could get caught in the crossfire! So you're gonna have to ignore it, Sammy."

Sam looked downward thoughtfully but didn't answer right away. He'd told Dean before, so he didn't really think he needed to say it aloud again. But he really didn't remember what it was like.

His whole life, he's had the wolf whispering to him in the back of his mind – influencing every decision he's ever made, ever.

When he left for college, where it was definitely his decision – in his subconscious his wolf was backing him up the whole way. The correct term for what he was at the time was a 'lone wolf', but he didn't like to think of it that way. It sounded a little too ridiculous when said out loud.

But when Dean came to pick him up, he was part of his small 'pack' again.

The wolf was _always_ there…and it didn't like to be ignored.

But Sam knew that Dean was right, and ignoring this instinct was their best bet…but it wouldn't be easy.

He nodded in understanding and agreement, but didn't look up to meet Dean's gaze yet.

"I know it won't be easy for you." Dean commented as if he read his brothers' mind, "But lemmie make you a deal, you show me how to be a little bit more like a wolf…and I'll show you how to be a bit more human."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brothers' words and couldn't help but chuckle. When Dean said he wanted Sam to teach him how to be a wolf, he meant mostly his sense of smell mostly. Dean was an awful tracker, Sam had to admit.

Sure in a secluded room or in the Impala, Dean could find tiny knick-knacks. But tracking outside in the wide open was a struggle…in either form.

Though Sam was confident that one day Dean would get it, it was still fun to watch him try to follow a scent.

"Deal." Sam agreed.

Even though he wasn't sure if it would work, he had no choice but to give it a try.

Right now, the wolf in his subconscious was silent. It didn't whisper anything to him, or try to get him to strike out at his brother. But Sam knew that it was just waiting for the right opportunity.

And in that moment, Sam knew that this wouldn't end well.

"I'm gonna get a couple hours sleep then, if there's nothing left to do." Sam announced with a phony stretch as he raised his arms above his head.

He wasn't tired really, but he didn't want to talk about this anymore.

* * *

_Kind of a little nothing chapter. _

_The next chapter should be a little more informative. :)_


	7. And Out Come The Wolves

_Chapter 7_

* * *

Early the next morning, Sam and Dean decided it best to dig a little deeper into the Miller's background. They talked to some of their friends, and even Jim Miller's co-workers. So far they found nothing strange.

Maybe they were wrong about this hunt, maybe there wasn't anything really going on…but Roger Miller's death directly after Jim's did seem a little suspicious.

So before giving up, Sam discovered that the Miller's hadn't always lived here. In fact, until only about five years ago they lived just outside of town. So the brother's decided it would be best to check it out.

Once in the neighborhood, they came across the Miller's old house. It was a dark, old fashioned looking place, but definitely a comfortable looking house.

The boys wanted to get a look inside the house, but thought it unwise considering that it seemed someone else seemed to live there now. And the pink tricycle on the front lawn suggested that a child lived there as well. So Sam and Dean thought it best not to disturb them.

Instead, there was an older man in a red flannel shirt and a ball cap on his head, who was standing outside his home watering his garden. And luckily, he only lived across the street from the Miller's old home.

So Dean parked the car, and decided it would be best to ask this man some questions. Sam, seeing the logic in this idea, agreed.

Sam and Dean stood on the sidewalk, off the man's' property looking behind the small gate where the man was standing. They kindly introduced themselves, and Sam immediately started asking questions, but he was sure to keep his face neutral but kindhearted.

"So have you lived in the neighborhood long?" Sam asked the man curiously.

The man looked warily between the brother's before responding politely. "Yeah, I've been here almost twenty years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you lookin' to buy?"

"No, no, actually, we were just wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street, I believe." Sam replied hopefully.

"Yeah, the Miller's." Dean interjected, "They had a little boy named Max."

"Yeah." Sam agreed.

Both Sam and Dean noticed how the man's demeanor suddenly changed. Both boys being very good at reading body language noted that the man went from friendly, but still guarded – being as the brother's were strangers to him, but at the same time he was cheery…now he was still guarded, but he looked sympathetic and saddened as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Yeah, I remember." The man replied seeming slightly more distant, "Jim's brother used to own the place next door…"

The man pointed across the street at the home next to the dark one Sam and Dean knew was the Miller's old place. The one adjacent to it looked slightly similar, but was definitely smaller. And where the Miller's old home looked somewhat inviting, the house next to it seemed shady and concealed in a shadow that a couple of large trees cast over it – making it look creepier.

"What's this about?" The man continued as he lowered his hand to his side, drawing Sam and Dean's attention back to him, "That poor kid okay?"

Sam and Dean exchanged curious looks, careful to avoid direct eye-contact (no need to scare the poor man with a wolf on wolf dominance battle, Dean thought to himself with a silent mental chuckle) before looking back at the man.

"What do you mean?" Sam wondered aloud.

"In all my life I've never seen a child treated like that," The man confessed sounding despondent, "I mean, I'd hear Mr. Miller yellin' and throwin' things clear across the street. He was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar out of Max. Bruises – broke his arm two times that I know of."

"And this was going on regularly?" Sam asked the man, feeling disgusted…no one deserved that kind of life.

"Practically every day." The man confessed sympathetically, "In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy, but the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, never lifted a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times, never did any good."

"Now you said stepmother…" Dean noted, careful to keep his face neutral.

"I think his real mom died. Some sort of accident – a car accident, I think." The man recalled thoughtfully.

Sam and Dean decided that was all they needed to know. They thanked the man kindly, and went back to the Impala. This case still wasn't making any sense.

They literally had considered almost all possibilities.

The best and probably most logic was that somehow along Max's life he came across black magic or something and was now taking his revenge out on the people that hurt him. So if they were right, his stepmother was more than likely the next target.

So just for good measure, they thought it would be best to go and talk to Max.

Dean didn't need to be told twice as he pulled his car out of the spot in front of the man's house, and began driving toward the Miller's current home quickly.

"So what if Max is really pullin' this off?" Dean asked his brother, a hard expression on his face.

"What do you mean?" Sam implored curiously as he glanced at his brother.

"I mean, if he really has killed his whole family – in my book, Sam – that makes him a monster." Dean told his brother, his voice somewhat edgier and rougher.

You think of yourself as a monster too, Dean – Sam thought to himself silently, but didn't dare say it aloud. Instead he just rolled his eyes and argued.

"He's human, Dean!"

"Maybe, but what else is there? We can't just get the police on his ass if he's using black magic, or whatever!" Dean snapped.

"Then we'll talk to him." Sam replied matter-of-factly, "We'll see if we can get through to him."

"Sam - "

"Dean…" Sam interrupted, his eyes wide, "just promise me you'll follow my lead on this."

Dean paused, thinking hard about what Sam was asking. It seemed well enough. If they were to get through to this kid, then he wouldn't kill anyone else. But Dean knew that usually once someone got a taste of magic, it was a hard habit to kick.

So he glanced at his brother quickly as he parked the Impala in front of the Miller's current residence and killed the engine before withdrawing the key from the ignition and placing them in his leather jacket pocket.

"Alright, fine." Dean finally answered angrily, "But I'm not lettin' him hurt anybody else."

With that, Dean reached over and pulled open the glove compartment, and pulled out his pistol from inside. He closed the compartment with the gun in his hands before pulling out ammunition from his pocket and loaded his gun quickly and skillfully.

With a hard look, Dean put the safety on and slid his pistol into his waistband before pulling his shirt and his jacket over it so that it was hidden from sight.

Sam tossed his brother a frown before he sighed and opened the car door. Dean shook his head at his brothers' fantasy that just talking would be enough to stop a killer, but kept his mouth closed nonetheless before he too opened his door and get out of his car.

The boys closed their doors, and walked up the cement steps, and crossed the walkway to the wooden steps of the Miller's house. Once on the porch, Dean lifted his fist to knock on the door, but paused when he heard yelling coming from the inside of the house.

He tossed Sam a curious look before leaning in to listen more closely.

"I don't know what you're talking about! You know I never did anything!" Mrs. Miller yelled, sounding emotional. The boys could tell from where they stood that she was holding back tears.

"That's right." Max accused; his voice nasally as he sniffled before continuing. Sam and Dean could tell that he was already crying, "You didn't stop them, not once!"

There was the sound of some sort of utensil clattering to the ground at the same time the stepmother gasped loudly in clear surprise.

"Max!" She called helplessly.

"For every time…you stood there and watched." Max said with a tear-filled yet grudging voice.

"I'm sorry." His stepmother wept in a high pitched whisper.

"No you're not." Max accused sounding sure of himself. "You just don't wanna die."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other with wide terrified eyes, and without saying a word, they both rammed their shoulders into the front door until it flew open and they charged into the living room.

In the same swift motion, Dean pulled his pistol from his waistband quickly, and switched the safety off without warning as he took aim at Max's head.

They paused once they were inside and saw Max looking at them with a bewildered look. His stepmother on the other hand kept her eyes fixed on the large kitchen knife that was floating by itself just in front of her right eye.

Immediately, Sam understood what was going on. Why no fingerprints were ever recovered at any of the crime scenes. It was because Max hadn't touched anything…with his hands anyway. He used telekinesis.

"Max, drop the knife." Sam requested in a stern voice, keeping his eyes on the man that had to be about his age.

"Drop the gun." Max demanded as he silenced a sob, his face red and his cheeks stained with past tear tracks. His eyes fixed on the gun in Dean's hands.

In response, Dean lifted his upper lip in clear distaste – but before he knew what happened, the gun flew from his hands, and straight in Max's fingers.

He looked the weapon over in his hands for a moment thoughtfully before aiming the weapon at Sam, and then at Dean back and forth between the two.

Dean kept his eyes fixed on Max, but lifted his hands in surrender – much to his displeasure. In Dean's mind, his wolf wanted the boy to fear him. But consciously, Dean knew now that if Max feared him – he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

"Why should I let her go?" Max wondered aloud.

"Because this is wrong…you gotta know that." Sam said soothingly looking back and forth between Max and the knife being held at his stepmothers' eye that was now starting to waver in midair slightly. He purposely ignored the gun that was now being aimed at the center of his forehead.

"Listen," Max said sounding a little calmer, though Sam and Dean didn't seem fooled as the man before them sniffled, "I have nothing against you…I promise I'll stop…after my stepmother - "

"No Max…you gotta let her go." Sam interrupted sharply, "Let's just get Dean and Alice outta here, so you and I can talk for a minute."

Suddenly all the doors and the windows slammed shut as a fierce wind ripped through the house causing even the foundation of the humble home to shake violently beneath everyone's feet. The chandelier even above their heads trembled, and for a moment Sam feared it would fall, but luckily it didn't.

The force of the power that the boy exerted caused the wolf in Dean to become very unsettled as the hairs on the back of his neck rose in warning. He kept his eyes fixed on the threat as he took a step toward his little brother almost protectively.

Sam on the other hand had a better handle on his wolf, only flashing a warning glance at Dean – silently telling him to keep quiet.

_But dominant wolves don't take orders from other dominant wolves. _

"Sam, I'm not leaving you alone with him." Dean growled in a whisper.

"Yes you are." Sam snapped back just as quietly.

"No one leaves this house!" Max yelled as the house shook more violently, the gun in his hands shaking with every deep breath he took.

Dean suppressed a snarl with great effort as he closed his eyes against what his subconscious was telling him to do. When he opened his eyes, Sam flashed him a warning glance.

"And no one has to!" Sam said simply, "They'll just go upstairs!"

Max seemed to consider this for a moment as he looked back and forth between the brothers' warily. In between every other glance that was directed at either Sam or Dean, he would look over at his stepmother, Alice. With her back still pressed against the wall, she trembled with apparent fear.

"You're in charge here, Max…" Sam continued carefully, "but I'm only talking five minutes here, man. Just hear me out."

For another moment, Sam thought Max was going to agree. His bright, tear-filled beady eyes looked back and forth between the brothers again, but then his eyes fixed on Alice.

Her trembling came between deep fearful sobs as the knife twisted in front of her eye.

And then…a look of determination crossed Max's face, and Sam wasn't expecting what happened next.

Without a word, the knife that was held in front of Alice's eye dropped to the ground with a loud clatter, but before she could so much as sigh with relief, Max turned to face his stepmother with the gun still held at the ready in front of him as he fired two shots directly into her forehead.

Instantly, everyone in the room knew Alice was dead as she fell to the hardwood floor in a lifeless heap. Dark crimson pooled around her head and neck, matting her hair together as she stared up at the ceiling with a chilling vacancy.

That had been the final straw for Dean, Sam noticed as the scent around him shifted. He turned around in time to see Dean strip out of his clothes with a wild look in his eyes as he stared at Max.

Sam looked over at Max in that moment who still seemed preoccupied with his dead stepmother to notice Dean's moment of angry stupidity.

Shifting in front of the enemy with no plan, Sam thought to himself angrily. That's definitely one way to get your ass killed.

Sam looked back around just in time to see Dean change, and within less than a minute a large black wolf stood before him looking downright pissed off as he bared his teeth at the man holding the gun threateningly.

Max turned around upon hearing the loud snarling, his eyes instantly averted to the large wolf standing in his living room shooting daggers at him, showing off its impressive teeth.

"What the hell is that!?" Max demanded, his voice a mixture of agonizing emotion as he shifted the piece in his hands to aim it at the wolf.

He looked at the discarded clothes around the wolf's feet, and thought deeply about what could have happened during the whole minute he kept his eyes on his dead stepmother.

Dean's control seemed to be hanging on by a thread as the smell of fresh blood, and Max's emotions tangled together in the air and wafted toward him. Not only that, but his own emotions were also running high as he watched Alice get her brains blown out. He looked up at his brother desperately, and saw that he looked rather composed.

How could Sam stay so levelheaded? Was he insane!?

Sensing something was amiss, Sam averted his eyes to his older brother who was looking back up at him almost pleadingly. Sam knew what Dean was going through, and fear for Max suddenly swelled in Sam's chest as he watched Dean's normal green eyes suddenly change to bright icy blue as his wolf struggled for control.

"Max…" Sam said in a hushed whisper, his eyes still trained on his brother, "go upstairs."

"W-w-what the hell is that thing!?" Max repeated, shaking the gun in his hands in emotional emphasis.

"He's about to friggin' kill you if you don't go upstairs right now!" Sam snapped, shifting his gaze over to the shaking man.

"N-no!" Max stammered nervously as he stupidly took a shot at the large angry black wolf, hitting it in its right foreleg.

Dean yelped in surprised and startled upon impact; his gaze becoming murderous as he glared at the one who just shot him.

"Stop! Don't!" Sam ordered furiously as he watched his brother jump in surprise at being shot.

Dean seemed to be ignoring the wound completely now, even as it bled openly flowing downward to the hardwood floor around his paws.

"Max…" Sam said more softly, "you're not in charge of the situation anymore. Go upstairs, now!"

And to Sam's terror, Dean chose that moment to strike as he leapt in the air with open jaws directed at Max's throat.

* * *

_Sorry this update took so long...so it make it up to you, I give you a long chapter...even though you probably hate me now for the cliffhanger. :D_

_Tell me what you think! More coming soon! _


	8. Alpha and Subordinate

_Chapter 8_

* * *

Max Miller jumped with terror clear in his beady emotional eyes as the large black wolf pounced at him. He instantly dropped the gun in his hands as he suddenly knew that this was the end for him.

He figured it was for the best. He knew the pain his father and uncle had caused him over the years wouldn't simply vanish because they were dead. He even thought that maybe the pain would let up if he killed his stepmother…but the moment the bullets hit her, Max knew when he felt no instant relief that he never would.

He had accepted his fate. Hell…he deserved it.

But the black wolf never collided with him as he had expected. Instead, another wolf – almost twice as big as the black one rammed into the first one with a certain ferocity that made Max flinch. The second wolf shoved the first one into the wall, and away from Max.

The second wolf was larger, and was covered in dark brown fur but had black patches in certain spots like its muzzle, its ears, its paws, and its tail – like a Siamese cat, almost.

Sam had shifted quickly and easily the moment he saw Dean make a move for Max, knowing that his wolf was behind the wheel and not his brother. He charged at the all black wolf the moment he had finished his own change and knocked his brother into the wall with a loud _'THUD'_.

Sam stood on all fours, very stiff-legged as he watched his brother get to his feet slowly. He didn't want to have this fight, not now. Though he knew his wolf did. He felt it pounding excitedly against his skull, telling him how to stand, how to go about this fight…but he held back.

He remembered the discussion he had with Dean just the night before. Sam had agreed to learn how to be more human…while Dean learned to be more like a wolf.

Right now…Dean seemed to be living up to his promise.

Sam's tail was down, with the tip flared out as he assessed the uncertain threat. He wasn't sure what Dean's next move would be.

When Dean got to his feet, he kept his injured paw up – not putting any weight on it, not even risking it. Sam was grateful for that, because he didn't want it to be worse when he changed back. Though blood still seeped to the ground steadily, blood-loss almost certain.

Sam eyed his older brother warily, but then looked away to take a quick look at Max who was cowering in the corner. Sam knew that if Dean got away in the same state he was now, he would kill Max…and when he got back to his right state of mind, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

So Sam made a quick decision that the wolf in his mind howled against in deep emotional protest against his skull causing his whole body to tremble.

He bowed out.

Sam lowered his head, lower than Dean's as his ears plastered to his head and kept his tail low – practically between his legs in submission. A small whimper escaped Sam's throat as he let Dean know that he indeed was more dominant than himself.

Dean cocked his head in confusion as his icy eyes assessed the larger wolf warily. Usually this other wolf gave him trouble as he fought for dominance…but now he was bowing out – recognizing him as alpha.

Sam remained in that position for what seemed like forever. Dean didn't seem to be making any sort of effort to recognize him as a lower ranking subordinate wolf, so he tried something else out of desperation.

He straightened his head a little, careful to still keep it lower than Deans, and exposed his throat – giving Dean an open invitation to either attack him, or accept his submission.

Dean huffed as he assessed the situation carefully, his ears perking as he thought. This seemed to be a win, win for him. He could either spare this wolf's life and have him be lesser than him – his beta. Or…he could kill him.

But the thought of killing this other wolf sent a shiver of cold heart-gripping fear through another part of his mind. He didn't think he would be able to live with himself if he killed this wolf.

So without further hesitation, Dean limped over to Sam awkwardly until they were practically standing nose to nose.

Sam looked up, but kept his head low. He couldn't help but wonder if his plan was working.

And in that moment, he felt Dean's sharp teeth clamp around his throat lightly. He didn't bite down, but instead held him there. And Sam knew then that his plan had worked, just as long as he remained still.

Dean's wolf was judging him, checking to see if Sam would really trust him – so this was sort of a game. If Sam flinched or so much as breathed somewhat irregularly, Dean would know he was being played, and try to kill him. So Sam remained still and unmoving.

Satisfied, moments later Dean finally released Sam from his jaws hold, and stepped back. Sam looked up at his brother and saw that his eyes were no longer icy blue, but their normal green as they had always been.

Sam sighed with relief as he straightened himself up, only in time to see that Max had regained his confidence and without his notice, managed to also get the gun again.

His ears flicked back upon hearing the pulling of the trigger, but his eyes remained on Dean as the bullets suddenly entered his exposed side three times. One bullet in his chest, the other in his stomach, and one more in his hip. He howled in agony as he collapsed onto the hard floor beneath him.

Surprised and completely terrified, Sam's ears went back as he glared at Max accusingly, his lips curled back into a snarl.

Max aimed the gun at Sam, but he dodged as a shot fired.

That's when Sam pounced on Max angrily, knocking the gun from the man's' hands, and him to the ground. Sam stood with his large front paws on Max's chest. He wouldn't kill Max; because he knew those shots wouldn't kill Dean. But he would incapacitate him till he could figure out something better to do with him.

With a heavy-handed swipe of his right paw, Sam knocked Max out cold – his head bobbing back and forth against the action.

Once satisfied that Max was unconscious, Sam got off the man and ran over to his brother worriedly.

Dean groaned, and Sam would have laughed at the very human sounding noise had it not been for the serious situation. His wolf mind told him to lick the wounds clean, and everything would be alright in the morning, but Sam shook that off with disgust. He would take the more human approach.

With another look over at Max to make sure he wouldn't be waking any time soon, Sam shifted from his wolf skin to his human shape quickly.

Human shaped, on his hands and knees – Sam stood to his full height and immediately went for his clothes shyly and shoved them on his body hurriedly. He rammed himself into his boxers, and then practically jumped into his jeans before buttoning them and zipping his fly.

Dressed enough to spare everyone in the room the awkwardness of his full-frontal body, Sam went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the drawers and cabinets.

"It'll be alright, Dean." Sam muttered knowing that Dean would hear him, "It'll heal in no time…but in the meantime I gotta get those bullets out."

Dean whimpered, but daren't attempt to move. Sam figured that was for the best.

After a few minutes of frantic searching, Sam finally came across a decent looking pair of tweezers and a green salad bowl that would have to make due for right now.

Hurriedly, Sam rushed back to Dean's side only to see the large black wolf nudging with his muzzle toward where Sam had left Max, a desperate look in his eyes.

Sam whirled around to see that Max was coming too, his head bobbing back and forth as he fought the intense headache that pierced his brain.

"Max…" Sam called as he got back to his feet, leaving the tweezers and the bowl by his brothers' side.

Max groaned in pain, but opened his bleary eyes and fixed his gaze on Sam curiously. Sam looked him down angrily, but said nothing as he sat up – still on the floor.

His beady eyes fixed on his stepmother for a while, his expression hopeless and completely miserable. His whole family was dead, and it hadn't filled that hole in his gut like he prayed it would.

Max then looked over at the large black wolf on the floor on the other side of the room and remembered that he was the one who shot it. But he wasn't sure how it was still alive.

Not that it mattered, Max thought to himself as tears rolled from his eyes. Pretty soon, he wouldn't have to worry about anyone hurting him ever again.

Max focused his energy on the discarded pistol on the ground till it rose from the ground seemingly by itself. Then with his telekinetic energy, he turned the gun till it was aimed at his own head and pulled the trigger, firing a shot into his brain…then it went black.

"NO!" Sam screamed suddenly as he watched Max kill himself before his eyes, the gun that levitated in midair falling to the ground after Max's body.

He tried so desperately to keep the kid alive, and that's how he was repaid? Max goes and kills himself? Hopelessness filled Sam's being as he looked upon the dead Miller's in the room. He had failed to save them.

Dark red blood pooled around Max's head instantly, making Sam's stomach curdle in disgust.

Dean yipped sadly toward his brother, which Sam found interesting. Dean was shot four times, and here he was trying to comfort _him_ when he was the one who could barely move.

Sam shook his head and knelt back down at Dean's side to help his brother recover. He put his hands on the scruff on Dean's neck and scratched lightly – silently thanking him.

Dean's tongue snaked out of his mouth and caught Sam's hand before he put his hands back to his side – a silent 'you're welcome'.

Now for the hard part, Sam thought to himself as he eyed the tweezers that he had left on the floor by his brother. He had to get the bullets out so the wounds would heal properly.

Sam was just _sure_ Dean would give his full cooperation!

…If only.

* * *

_The 'dominance battle' isn't the main focus on the story, so I figured I would kind of move that along. _

_The next chapter we'll deal with the aftermath of all this, but we're coming up to the action guys. Haha. _


	9. Family

_Chapter 9_

* * *

Sam had managed to extract the bullets with little trouble actually, which surprised him. When Dean was in human form and Sam had to pull out bullets, he bitched like there was no tomorrow.

But aside from a couple of silent whimpers, Dean seemed relatively calm.

Sam had lifted Dean and carried him out to the Impala, loading the large wolf into the back seat and closing the door behind him. He then of course went back into the house and dusted the entire house of his and Dean's fingerprints, and retrieved his and Dean's clothing.

He figured it would be best to leave the gun behind. When the cops decided to show, they would be looking for a murder weapon, and if they couldn't find one – they would look toward 'suspicious characters' being (maybe) Sam and Dean.

So better to just leave the gun, and make it look like a murder/suicide crime.

Sam then made it back to the motel room in record time, the smelly, smelly motel room. He couldn't wait for Dean to recover so they could get the hell out of this town.

But while Dean was on the mend, Sam decided to take a deeper look into Max Miller's history. He had checked into the history of their house, but all they knew about Max was that he was abused as a child. But how did he come across these telekinetic abilities? Sam had to wonder.

So as Dean slept, Sam did his research.

They remained like that until the next morning, when the sun was already up. Sam hadn't slept a wink, but Dean was finally gathering himself.

The large black wolf on the bed closest to the wall opened his bleary green eyes. He scanned the room instinctively as the protector, and sighed with relief upon seeing Sam sitting at the table by the door with his laptop open.

Whatever Sam was looking up, it seemed to be upsetting him, Dean realized as he noticed Sam's mouth was pulled down into a frown.

Dean rolled over a little, and grunted when he put his weight on his sore side – completely forgetting he had been shot on that side three times.

Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, and hearing Dean's grunt, Sam's head snapped to his brothers' attention. Quickly, he stood from his seat and was instantly kneeling in front of the bed at Dean's side.

"Hey, Dean…" Sam greeted as he ruffled the thick fur that made up Dean's mane, "How're you doing?"

Dean huffed in response, shaking his head to clear it. His eyes still fixed on Sam, happily.

"Think you can shift back, or do you not wanna chance it?" Sam asked his brother curiously as he withdrew his hand back to his side.

Dean shook his head again, this time a clear response. His side and his foreleg were still too sore, though healed. He shuddered at the thought of shifting.

"Alright." Sam understood with a curt nod.

Dean didn't miss the fact that Sam still looked absolutely miserable, his frown still clearly visible, and his eyes looked sympathetic yet deep in thought.

Imploring him to explain what was making him so down; Dean nudged his muzzle into Sam's hand, and placed affectionate little doggy-like snuffles into the palm of his brothers' hand.

Smiling weakly, Sam got the message as he pulled his hand away from his brothers' mouth.

"I was doing some research on the Miller's…" Sam admitted hoarsely, "turns out Max's mother died in a house fire in nineteen eighty-three…in his nursery."

Dean's eyes widened visibly, and an over-excited yet aggressive yip escaped his throat.

"I think it may have been the Yellow-Eyed Demon." Sam continued sadly.

Dean gave a short growl at the mention of the Demon. That son-of-a-bitch was clearly still after Sam, but Dean would do everything in his power to see that it failed.

Sam took in a deep breath, and tried desperately not to think about what this meant. He wasn't entirely sure what exactly it meant anyway, but it couldn't have been good.

Was Max Miller another one of the Demon's possessions, or something – like it claimed Sam was before the witch 'stole' him? The thought made Sam angry, honestly. He didn't belong to anybody. He had a mind of his own, and was tired of others thinking up plans for him.

But Sam couldn't help but wonder what on earth the Demon could have had planned with him and this other boy. Where there others? This seemed oddly suspicious.

"Either way…" Sam said more to himself than to Dean, "I think we should call dad and tell him what we found. This is a little too big to keep a secret from him."

Dean ducked his head in a short nod, obviously agreeing.

Sam kept a wary eye on Dean, noticing that the black wolf hadn't really moved. Sure, he moved from lying on his stomach to his good side, but the movement was stiff and obviously painful.

He couldn't help but feel bad for Dean, he'd been shot like that before – and even though it wouldn't kill them unless the bullets were silver, it still didn't tickle.

Sam took in a deep breath and clapped his hands together to break his mind of the sympathetic thoughts, and got to his feet quickly.

"So…you hungry?" Sam asked uncomfortably.

Honestly, he didn't even stand around long enough to see Dean's wordless reply. His brother had been asleep through the night, and hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon…and not to mention he was still healing.

So Sam went over to the mini-fridge on the other side of the room and pulled out a tray of raw steak that he had wrapped in cling-wrap only yesterday. He glanced at his brother cautiously before sticking the slab of meat in the microwave.

Not that he had expected any different, really – but there Dean was, still lying on the bed, his tail thumping against the lumpy mattress excitedly making Sam smile a little.

When the microwave beeped, signifying the meat was warm; Sam opened the door and pulled out the tray before unwrapping it and placing it in front of his brother.

Dean sniffed at the meat for a moment before actually eating it, just to test if it was still good. Sam rolled his eyes, like he would feed his injured brother bad meat. Sure, he could be a pain-in-the-ass little brother when need be, but he would never go so far as to make Dean sick.

But still, as Dean ate Sam couldn't help but steal glances every once in a while with his arms crossed over his chest. He knew what he had done back in Max's house was a big deal. He had let Dean declare himself more dominant than Sam.

_Even though you are more dominant! _The angry whisper of his wolf whispered grudgingly into his head.

But he had to do it, Sam knew. And he would continue to play submissive. He only hoped that one day he didn't lose control, leaving his wolf in control. Sam had a feeling his wolf wouldn't be too keen on pretending to be submissive.

That could end badly for both of them.

Moments later Dean had finished his food, and had nosed his plate away so he could attempt to get more sleep. His side however, was being stubborn and wouldn't quit burning and itching.

Seeing his discomfort, Sam took Dean's plate and simply placed it on the counter. He watched as Dean watched him curiously, while he stepped into the bathroom for a minute – leaving the door open.

The bathroom was too small, and smelled of disinfectant, sweat, and cigarettes. Sam could only imagine what the last people who used this room did in here.

Sam disrobed as quickly as he could, and left his clothes on the floor in a disheveled pile as he began shifting into wolf form with pleasure.

The transformation was quick, and actually pretty painless – probably mostly because of the heavy adrenaline rush. Aside from the mass itch from the rapid fur growth, the shift was actually a welcome relief.

Actually, just a few weeks ago – Sam and Dean had been sitting in Bobby's house watching 'American Werewolf in London' and both cracked smiles at the transformation scene. The movie made it seem painful and gruesome, when in reality it was only gruesome really if you were the one watching it.

Changing species in under a minute..? Yeah, not a pretty sight.

Still though, it was a good movie.

Now Sam was completely in his wolf-skin as he shook himself like a wet dog to rid his skin of the awful creeping crawling sensation just beneath his fur. He knew it was from actually growing the fur and would subside in moments, but it was still bothersome.

Once adjusted, Sam trotted out of the bathroom and into the main room with his tongue lolling out happily. He looked up at the bed and saw that Dean was eyeing him suspiciously.

Sam rolled his eyes and hopped on the bed with his brother. He knew that whenever he was injured, Dean would always stay by his side, keeping him as comfortable as possible, and protected. It was only proper that Sam do the same.

Dean grumbled out a somewhat suppressed growl of discomfort as Sam stuck his snout into the wounds on the barrel of his chest, his stomach, and his hip – he knew his brother was checking to see if they were alright, and healing properly, but it was still sore.

Satisfied that Dean's side was alright, Sam then checked on his right foreleg – sticking his nose directly into the sore spot. That earned him an angry growl, making him wince in surprise.

Silently apologizing for causing Dean more discomfort, but still happy that even his leg was alright – Sam's tongue snaked out, catching the wound. Sure it was a very wolf move, but maybe even that would help Dean…

…Or at least his wolf side.

Finally happy that Dean would be alright, Sam plopped down on the bed – his body offering his brother more heat and comfort.

For a moment, Dean was considering getting up and going to the other bed. Sam was a big guy in human form, and wolf form – yet here he was on the same bed as him, curled around him like some giant dog or something. Hell, he was practically on top of him!

But Dean hurt too much to move. He feared that if he were to indeed hop off the bed, Sam would have to shift back to human shape and carry him back to the bed.

Dean looked over at Sam who now seemed to be asleep with his muzzle placed neatly on his shoulder, and his black tail wrapped around his own.

_Ugh…little brothers. _

Finally deciding that he couldn't go anywhere, Dean put his head down – realizing that when he did, his snout wound up in Sam's gut.

Dean was about to attempt to roll over to maybe relieve some of the crowdedness on the bed, but found that his wolf actually took comfort in his brothers' scent…which admittedly weirded him out a little.

Not only because it was his brothers' scent that his wolf seemed to find comfort in. But the fact that not even a day ago, did his wolf want to rip Sam's throat out…and vice-versa.

That's when he remembered back at the Miller's house. He remembered how Sam bowed out, admitting to him that he was the subordinate.

Dean looked down at Sam curiously. He knew that the kid was only doing it to end the stupid battle, but it couldn't have been sitting well with his brothers' wolf.

But even still, not much could be done about it now. And this way, they could at least get on with their lives.

That made Dean overflow with happiness, maybe now they could go back to the way things were. Well…not entirely back to the way things were, but at least someplace close.

That thought filled Dean with hope as he burrowed his snout further into his brothers' belly, breathing in the scent peacefully.

_Pack, _his wolf told him contently.

No, Dean thought back as he remembered his brothers' words from the night before. Two was too small to be a pack.

Sam was his brother. His subordinate little brother.

_Family, _Dean corrected.

* * *

_Yay, a fluff chapter! Haha. _

_Admittedly, this is just kind of a filler chapter, but the next chapter should be slightly more informative. :D_

_Tell me what you guys thing, seriously. Is this any good? _


	10. I Must Be Dreaming

_Chapter 10_

* * *

_The moon was full just overhead, peaking through the shroud of trees that made up the woods around them. It seemed to be the only light as the two large brother wolves stalked through the woods in search of food. _

_The black wolf that was Dean was leading the hunt, his eyes searching back and forth around them quickly. He could smell the animal, but it was still too far to pursue. _

_Sam fell in behind his brothers' steps, bringing up the rear silently. Even though the hunting was slow tonight, he was still happy to be out with Dean under the moon. _

_Just as Sam was about to turn around and head back, Dean tilted his head back and howled excitedly while he ran off into the cover of brush just ahead. _

_Where had Dean just gone off to? Sam had to wonder, there wasn't anything around for at least a few miles. Why would Dean just take off like that, and so happily?_

_Sam thought it best to sit and wait for Dean to return or even howl again to let him know where he had gone to. _

_Sam sat there, waiting and waiting. Sooner or later Dean would find him or signal him, so Sam could find him. It was only a matter of time. _

_But there Sam sat…_

_Had something happened? What if someone was out here hunting wolves? People did that right? _

_Worriedly, Sam reared his head back and howled loud, calling to his brother – all but begging him to come back. _

_But he didn't come…_

_Sam got to his feet, and started moving in the direction where his brother had gone. Dean couldn't have gotten too far. _

_He followed Dean's unmistakable scent for what seemed like forever. He sniffed at trees and bushes, and followed the distinct trail. _

_But then suddenly…the trail ended in a clearing. _

_Sam whirled around in the clearing, his eyes wide and fearful. Dean wouldn't have abandoned him, he couldn't have. Something terrible must have happened to him. _

_Sam's head jerked up, his ears perking when he suddenly heard the snapping of twigs and the moving of the bushes just ahead. Someone was coming, Sam realized. _

_…Someone without a scent. _

_Demon. _

_Sam released a rumbling growl from his chest and crouched down into a defensive stance. This demon must have taken Dean. _

_Who came through the brush though…wasn't who Sam was expecting. _

_She wore a white flowing gown over her pale body; the same gown Sam had seen her wear countless times before. Framing her glowing face perfectly was her long wavy dark brown hair. She was beautiful, but menacing…and if Sam remembered correctly, she was very much dead. _

_The dark eyes of the witch who laid this curse on him to begin with stared at him with just as much love as he remembered her doing only months ago. _

_His growling ceased, not knowing what else to do as his eyes widened. _

_But she didn't have a scent, that's what really threw him. If he remembered, the witch had a scent that was at least vaguely human. But now, all Sam could smell was the woods around him. _

_"Sam…" The witch whispered with a wide smile, "It's been too long." _

_Sam backed away nervously, not wanting to be too close to this thing. This had to be a dream. She was dead. _

_"Why is it so hard for you to believe I'm back?" The witch asked soothingly as if she read his mind, "I've come back from the grave before, why is it so weird now?"_

_Sam let out a high-pitched whine but let her talk. He just wanted to wake up now. _

_"What's wrong?" She asked with a phony coo, "I figured you'd be more at ease if I came to you in this shape."_

_Suddenly the witch's dark sparkling eyes suddenly melted into a gut wrenching yellow consuming her pupils, then her irises, and even the whites of her eyes. _

_ Sam growled angrily, flashing his teeth at the Demon. He lowered his body back into his defensive crouch, his eyes flashing gold as even the wolf in his mind wanted to rip a piece of that Demon apart. _

_"What's wrong, Sammy?" The Demon asked again with a sick smile twisted on its face, "You don't like me posing as the whore that took you from me?"_

_Sam snarled at the Demon, showing off his teeth again – as any good predator would do. The Demon however, seemed unfazed. _

_"I'm here to tell you that you're not as safe from me as you may think, Sammy." The Demon whispered coyly, making Sam's blood boil, "The witch overlooked something…and I have to admit, even I didn't realize it at first – but now I know…"_

_Sam huffed, silently ordering the Demon to continue. _

_"You and I…we have a connection, Sammy." The Demon said with a smile that looked so wrong on that face. _

_Sam stomach rolled, and he almost vomited, but he made sure he kept the bile down. What was this son-of-a-bitch getting at?_

_"You no longer have the gifts that the other children got because that…_creature_ had to interfere," The Demon spat hatefully, "but you still have a little bit of me left inside you…which is how I'm able to come into your dream, kid."_

_Cold fear gripped Sam's chest, what did the Demon mean when he said he had a piece of him inside? What did that mean?_

_Sam growled again, his eyes wild as he glared daggers at the Demon. Again though, the Demon didn't seem at all threatened. _

_That's when Sam suddenly remembered the last conversation he had with the witch…_

_"_I never loved…you." Sam noted matter-of-factly.

The witch looked as if she were smacked in the face. Her eyes bulged at his words, and tears sprang to her eyes. But instead of rage, like Sam had been expecting…she looked genuinely sad.

"Then…you sign your death warrant." The witch replied brokenly.

Sam took that as a threat, and took a step back. The witch however made no move. She just stared at him as tears fell from her eyes.

"Not me…the demon. He's going to kill you." The witch said simply.

"What do you know about it?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing." The witch admitted with a sniffle, "I know that it marked you somehow…but that's all. When it gets its hands on you, it may not kill you right away…but eventually…it will destroy all that you are."

_It marked him…but how? _

_"I also found something whilst playing around in your noggin here…" The Demon commented almost playfully. _

_Suddenly, a burning pain slammed into Sam's stomach – causing him to howl in surprise as the burn spread through the rest of his body. It consumed him, and for a moment he thought it was killing him…_

**xXx**

Sam thought he knew pain. Hell, with a lifestyle like his and Dean's – he couldn't recall a day where he wasn't healing from some kind of injury.

But this…

Sam awoke to the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life. His eyes were blinded, and all he saw was a bright white light around him. There was a consistent ringing in his ears, but he couldn't focus on it. Even his sense of smell was jumbled.

The burn in his stomach intensified, and suddenly he felt his body begin to shift forcefully. His body was reverting back to human form unwillingly, and he swore it was killing him.

His body was shaking against the shift; someone was trying to get him to focus he thought. Maybe he had woken Dean up somehow and he was trying to wake him up. But he just couldn't…

Sam felt as the forceful shift started with his feet. His back paws slowly and painfully grew as the fur shed off quickly, and the toes that surrounded the paw turned into human toes as the pads changed into rougher more callused human feet. The same happened to his hands, though Sam couldn't tell which was more painful.

His legs then snapped forward as his kneecaps remade themselves, his legs then became his usual skinny stilt-like human legs as his pelvis jerked and morphed to fit a more human shape.

Suddenly, Sam's entire spine shuddered – temporarily paralyzing him as his whole body jerked upward. Sam felt as his spine straightened to accommodate human motion, and his tail wither and shrink back into himself.

When the paralysis was lifted, that's when his ribcage realigned itself. Every bone shifted one at a time, slowly but surely – taking the organs that his ribcage was designed to protect along for the grinding, yet rough ride. All this while his shoulders snapped back into human shape.

That's when the worst of it happened, suddenly it felt as if his whole head was snapping apart as his skull took on its natural human shape.

At that moment just before Sam lost consciousness, Sam realized that the ringing he heard in his ears was his own bloodcurdling screaming.

**xXx**

Dean suddenly snapped awake when he heard a loud pain-filled howl sound directly in his ear. His first instinct was to growl at his brother – but once he lifted his head to face Sam…his mind went blank as fear ripped through his body.

Sam was suddenly off the bed and on the hardwood floor writhing in pain as he went through a slow shift back to human form.

Dean watched horrorstricken as he forgot his own pain from the healing bullet wounds and jumped off the bed to sit at his brothers' side. The shift – either way didn't hurt at all. What was wrong with Sam?

Making a quick decision, despite his own pain – Dean suddenly shifted back to his human form – quick and painless, the way it was supposed to be.

Finding a pair of boxers on the floor, Dean shoved them on without looking to see if they were so much as on the correct way.

Dean then grabbed Sam's shoulders and shook him harshly as he called his brothers' name – even though Dean doubted Sam could even hear him over his loud ear-splitting howls.

"SAMMY!" Dean called as clumps of dark brown and black fur shed from his brother and onto the floor beneath him when suddenly Sam's whole body jerked upwards, and Dean knew it was Sam's spine realigning itself slowly and painfully, causing him to wince in sympathy.

Suddenly, to Dean's udder terror – someone began pounding on the front door hurriedly. There was no way Dean was getting up to answer it, not with his brother in this condition.

"GO AWAY!" Dean yelled furiously as protective instincts clouded his mind.

"Dean!? Open up! It's me!"

Dean almost collapsed with relief when he heard his fathers' voice on the other side of the door. That was the only person Dean would get up for.

Quickly, Dean rushed to the other side of the room – momentarily leaving his brothers' side. He shakily turned the latch, and unchained the door, allowing his father entrance.

Suddenly, John Winchester opened the door and slammed it shut behind him as he and Dean blindly rushed over to Sam's side – just in time to see him change back to complete human shape.

"What the hell just happened? He's been shifting his whole life; it never hurt him like this!" John yelled to Dean over Sam's screams.

That's when suddenly, and to Dean's relief – Sam's screaming was choked off as his naked body went limp as he fell into unconsciousness.

"It _doesn't_ hurt!" Dean exclaimed, his voice still shaking for fear for his brother, "One minute, we're both asleep – in wolf form and then suddenly he's waking me up with his screaming! I don't know what happened!"

"Alright," John said with a nod accepting Dean's story as he kept his eyes on his youngest son, "We should at least move him to the bed."

"No," Dean disagreed as he shook his head, "that change must have seriously hurt him. I don't want to hurt him any more."

"Dean, come on." John argued.

Dean was suddenly filled with an over-protective nature that he knew was more his wolf's than his own. The need to protect his pack rang in his ears and he knew what was best for Sam. John didn't know anything!

"No." Dean said defiantly, "It'll only hurt him more."

Why was Dean fighting him on this? John wondered to himself. Didn't he see that he just wanted to help Sam as much as he did? Making him comfortable was top priority.

But Dean was seeking to be in control of the situation, when it seemed neither of them were. So John sighed deeply to try and shake off his rattling nerves, and nodded in agreement.

It seemed they would just have to wait for Sam to wake up and tell them what happened so they could make their next move.

* * *

_So poor Sammy, huh..? Stinkin' Yellow-Eyes makin' him shift unwillingly. Tisk, tisk. _

_...More to come soon! :D_

_Oh...and I'll explain why John showed up in the next chapter. _


	11. Mind Games Part 1

_Chapter 11_

* * *

It had been an hour, and still Sam hadn't even stirred. Dean thought it best to at least cover his brother with a blanket if he couldn't move him. So for an hour, Sam lay on the ground covered by a ratty old brown blanket.

While Sam was unconscious, his brother Dean, and their father John sat on the beds with their eyes on each other, but would occasionally travel back to Sam – silently egging him to come to.

John sat on the side of Sam's bed, closest to the door and Dean sat on the side of his own, facing his father. They came up with theories as to what could be happening with Sam, but neither of them would know for sure until he woke up. They only hoped he'd wake up soon.

Dean of course on the other hand, had to ask John why he was in the area – especially after they had just left him when they decided that it was too dangerous for them to be together.

"Caleb called," John explained tiredly, "said there were demon omens in this area, bad ones. I poked around here for a couple days and saw you boys were on another case involving some kid. So of course I looked into the kid too and noticed Max Miller's mother died almost the same exact way your mother did…"

"Yeah, Sammy found that out too." Dean told his father as he turned his gaze over to his little brother, who still showed no signs of waking.

John nodded and cleared his throat, catching Dean's attention again. "I took it up with Caleb and Bobby, and we found that there are only four families in the country whose mothers' deaths also fit that profile. All of them burning in the child's nursery on their sixth month birthday."

"You're kidding…?" Dean asked with wide eyes, when John kept his serious gaze on Dean he knew it was no joke.

"Max Miller, Andrew Gallagher, Scott Carey…and Sam." John informed Dean solemnly, "But the problem is…I know there's more."

"So what are you telling me?" Dean asked anxiously, his eyes imploring and wide as he kept them trained on his father.

"I'm saying there's no clear pattern to track these people down." John explained, sounding clearly worried.

"Well what do we really know about these kids, dad?" Dean asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he wondered aloud, "All the demon ever told Sam was that he was his, but the witch stole him."

John took a deep calming breath and looked down at his hands as he thought about how to answer his son. Once the words were in his head, he looked back up into Dean's nervous eyes.

"I can't say the same for all of them," John began, his voice hoarse as emotions got the better of him, "but the ones I've heard about all have some sort of psychic ability…I think the Demon somehow gave them these abilities."

"Max did have telekinesis…" Dean announced more so to himself than to his father as he thought about the other children.

"And I know Scott Carey has electrokenesis." John offered, "I don't know about Andrew though…"

"Do you think Max is the reasons all those demons are in town? You think maybe the Demon sent them to collect him or something?" Dean wondered aloud.

John shrugged. "It seems likely, but I can't say for sure."

"So what do we do now?" Dean asked as he gathered his bearings sounding more confident, "Do we go after these other kids?"

"I don't know," John admitted, "so far none of the other ones seem to be turning bad like Max did…I think now it's just a waiting game."

Dean nodded in agreement as he nodded toward his brother, "First things first…we need to find out what's happening to Sammy."

Suddenly, as if on cue – Sam moaned aloud, and both John and Dean were on their feet and at Sam's side in a heartbeat. Their eyes both lit up with worry as Sam's eyelids squeezed shut, but his head shook to relieve the building pressure in his skull as a violent migraine formed.

"Sammy?" Dean asked hopefully, "Come on, wake up dude."

Sam's eyes opened slowly and revealed blown up golden irises. Surprised, both John and Dean tensed and took a step back.

But their fear was short-lived when Sam's eyes melted back to their regular size and the golden irises changed back to their usual hazel as he stared up at his family curiously.

"You alright, Sammy?" Dean asked, physically relaxing as he knelt down at Sam's side.

But Sam wasn't looking at Dean; his wide eyes looked past his older brother and fixed on their father inquisitively.

"D-dad?" Sam muttered tiredly, his voice hoarse from the painful transformation.

John nodded and smiled down at his youngest son, harboring unshed tears in his bright eyes - his worry practically radiating off him. "Hey, Sam."

"Can you sit up?" Dean asked, apprehensively.

Sam nodded slowly, desperate to not disturb the pounding in his head. Dean took that as a good enough answer, and grabbed Sam by his elbows and hoisted him up with a groan. Sam closed his eyes against the nausea that threatened to spill his dinner all over the floor, but managed to keep it down.

Satisfied that Sam was at least up, Dean backed up a little to give his brother some breathing room. Sam nodded in silent thanks.

"Sam, can you tell us what happened?" John asked, his voice soft with deep sympathy but his eyes never wavered from Sam's face.

"I don't really know," Sam admitted in a whisper – not really trusting his voice to be much louder, "I remember falling asleep…then I had a really weird dream."

"What kind of weird dream?" John demanded, suddenly more persistent.

Sam then went on the explain to his father and brother about how the witch that had cursed him invaded his dream, disturbing a hunt he and Dean were pursuing in the woods while both in wolf form. He explained how Dean disappeared right when the witch came to him in a clearing.

But then her eyes turned yellow, and Sam knew that it wasn't the witch but the Yellow-Eyed Demon. He relayed to Dean and their father how the Demon was saying how Sam and it were connected, but he didn't have a gift like the other children…whatever that meant.

Sam then told them how he knew that the Demon marked him somehow, like the witch had said a couple months back. He just wasn't sure how. But the Demon said that it found something while 'playing in his noggin' and that's when the pain hit him, and he shifted back.

"Damnit!" John swore angrily, "That son-of-a-bitch forced you to shift."

"That's where I was betting my money." Sam admitted as he took in a deep steadying breath.

"How did the Demon mark you and the others?" Dean wondered curiously.

Sam shrugged and sighed deeply against the pain that kept building in his head. He made a grab for his forehead and attempted to soothe the throbbing by massaging his temples gently.

Dean understood what was wrong and flashed a sympathetic smile as he strode off across the room to where their bags lay by the door. He knelt down and dug around in the dark green duffel for a moment before retrieving a large white bottle of aspirin. Successful in his search, Dean got up and rejoined his brother at his side and handed him two aspirin which Sam took willingly before swallowing them down, dry.

"I would say either by blood or some other kind of spell." John offered thoughtfully, his anger still quite apparent in his lightly shaken form.

"What the hell do you mean by blood?" Dean demanded suddenly sounding alarmed as his eyes snapped to his fathers' attention.

"I mean…" John began again not knowing how to place his words, "sometime before Sammy was cursed by the witch…the Demon might have found some way to get its blood…_in_…Sam."

"WHAT!?" Sam and Dean demanded in unison, their wide eyes directed at their father looking slightly alarmed.

"It fits…" John commented sounding slightly defeated.

"No…the Demon had to have meant something else." Dean offered frantically, "What kind of spell could put the Demon in Sammy's head?"

"I dunno if there is one." John murmured.

"Well Sam can't have…_demon blood_ in him!" Dean retorted on the verge of hysteria.

"I'm sure that's what the Demon would be so angry about…" John said more to himself than to his sons, "The witch cursed Sam, and canceled out the demon blood in some way, but not completely…which is why the Demon can still get in his head, but Sam's not showing any signs of having some psychic ability…"

"Just stop!" Dean snapped furiously, "This can't be right! There has to be another explanation!"

"It's the only thing that fits, Dean." John muttered, not wanting to believe it any more than Dean.

"No!" Dean said defiantly.

John turned to fix his eldest son with a pointed stare only to be met with the icy blue eyes of Dean's wolf. His large human frame shaking as he struggled with his building rage to keep control.

Normally, John would have backed off by this point. But Dean wasn't thinking straight, and all of them were at their wits end.

"Don't you _dare _make the mistake in thinking you're the only one who cares about Sam!" John snapped in a deep voice, full of authority.

"Dean!" Sam said firmly, finally speaking up once he noticed Dean's state of mind. It was enough to snap him out of the verge of going into shock, "This is stupid, man!"

Upon hearing Sam's desperate voice, Dean snapped back into his right state of mind. His eyes melted back into their natural green as he exhaled deeply – his big brother instinct shoving the wolf in his mind away, if only temporarily.

"Sorry…" Dean murmured at their father, dropping his gaze down to his brother.

John nodded curtly, accepting the apology.

Sam would have been lying if he said he was okay with all this. He wasn't sure what any of this meant for him, and it scared the hell out of him.

Could the Demon get in his mind and control that, too? It seemed to have no problems controlling Sam's wolf phasing. Could it get into his mind and read it like an open book whenever it wanted?

What if he could never shift back into his wolf skin? That thought sent a pang of heart-wrenching sadness through him. He hoped that painful shift was just a onetime thing, Sam wasn't sure if he'd be able to live through such agony a second time.

Sam made a decision right then, later on when he got his bearings back – he would attempt to shift into his wolf skin.

A life without his wolf…Sam shuddered at the thought. He didn't like the thought of such a life.

* * *

_Admittedly, this is a weird spot to leave the chapter off...but I lost my train of thought. Haha. _

_More to come soon! :D_


	12. Mind Games Part 2

_Chapter 12_

* * *

It had taken a couple of hours, but eventually Sam got his bearings and was able to get to his feet at least – even though Dean and John hounded him, insisting he rested.

Sam wasn't in much of a mood to argue, so he obliged. He slid his clothes on sluggishly, hissing silently through the pain as his head pounded mercilessly against his skull when he bent over to put his socks on. For a moment, he swore he was going to throw up, but luckily – he managed to keep his stomach in check.

After he was dressed, he laid on his bed on top of his covers with a clear plastic bag of ice placed on his forehead to numb him to the headache – even though the aspirin Dean had given him seemed to be doing the trick.

For a while he watched while Dean and their dad argued about what was happening with him, but he didn't bother to put his input in. He just kept his eyes fixed on his father and brother silently, thinking to himself.

Did he and the other children really have demon blood in him? Sure it seemed logical, but in all his years of hunting Sam had never heard of anything like this. Usually demons just wreaked havoc for their own sick pleasure – no rhyme or reason, just random evil.

But of course that didn't mean they _couldn't_ plan, it just meant it wasn't common.

Why though? Why would the Demon go through all that trouble to share its blood with him and the others?

Unless _that_ was the plan, Sam thought to himself. Maybe the Demon just decided to make them all freaks among their kind, if the demon blood gave them abilities – sure, that'd make anyone stick out.

But then of course, that wouldn't explain why the Demon was looking for Sam. If the witch ruined the Demon's plan by cursing Sam, the Demon would just think it was a minor bump in the road…an inconvenience. But would it really go through the trouble of trying to kill Sam because of something like that?

It didn't seem worth it, Sam decided. So there had to be some reason behind all of this.

"Sam!" Dean yelled sounding agitated.

Sam snapped to attention, startling a little as his wide eyes averted to his brother. "Yeah..?"

"Then what'd I just say?" Dean quizzed a little impatiently.

When hearing Sam's lack of a reply, Dean rolled his eyes and repeated himself.

"Do you think you're up to trying to shift again?"

Truthfully, Sam wanted nothing more than to try and shift right now. He didn't want to be held back because it _might_ hurt. But honestly, that was the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his whole life…and he wasn't looking forward to _maybe_ going through it again.

So he decided on a compromise.

"I'll shift something small, like my hand." Sam replied in a near whisper, "And if it works without the pain, I'll keep going."

Dean understood how weird that was, though it was apparent John didn't. When they began to force their shifts, it was like they were filled with this euphoric ecstasy because of the adrenaline rush. It filled them with a certain high or excitement and once they started – it was near impossible to stop.

Sam and Dean had decided a while ago that it was probably because Sam was cursed to be a wolf among men…and nothing in between.

Of course, only when the witch wasn't trying to snack on his and the other wolves souls.

The adrenaline rush was the body's defense mechanism, Sam knew. As Sam had just demonstrated, without the adrenaline rush – the pain would send the mind into unconsciousness. No way, they'd stay awake after such a trauma. And of course the curse pulls them into wolf form under the full moon, and the full moon was only up for so many hours. Why spend the night unconscious?

Dean nodded in understanding as he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes fixed on Sam expectantly. John stood shoulder to shoulder with his eldest, keeping his arms at his side and his eyes also on Sam.

Sam looked between his brother and father nervously, and thought to himself to keep calm. At the first sign of pain, he'd immediately reverse it – and stay human for a while.

That thought sent a cold shiver up Sam's spine, but knew there was nothing he could do. He had to test himself, and it was now or never.

Sam tossed his icepack on the nightstand with a groan, and carefully stood from the bed and began to slip out of his clothes albeit sluggishly. Normally, he would have cracked some joke to ease the tension while his brother and father watched him undress, but they all understood the importance of this.

Still Sam was disrobing, and he could tell by the way Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other that he was growing impatient. It wasn't like he _wanted_ to watch his little brother get undressed, anyway.

And of course if Sam was being honest, he was definitely attempting to stall. The pain a clear memory in his head, and the only thing on his mind.

"Care to move it along?" Dean prodded with an eye-roll.

Sam nodded curtly before finally slipping off the last of his clothing.

There in the nude, he closed his eyes and focused in on starting the shift off on his hand. He felt the tingling sensation that swept through him just before his body complied to his minds demand, and was suddenly filled with the wonderful relieving adrenaline rush.

It was like a breath of fresh air when his human hand turned into a paw, followed by his other hand, and then his feet. His legs and arms realigned themselves to fit a more canine stance and his ribcage shuddered and moved. His spine grew and lengthened into a tail at the same time his face elongated into a wolf's head. He barely heard the crunching of his bones over his own ragged excited breathing. And to his greater happiness, there was no pain when his body changed species this time.

Upon seeing Sam shift, Dean wanted to cry with relief right then and there. It seemed that whatever the Demon did to Sam was only temporary, and Dean honestly couldn't be happier. For a moment he even contemplated shifting himself so they could celebrate. But of course that would leave their dad with a couple of wolves, which would probably be awkward for him.

Moments later, a large brown and black wolf stood at John and Dean's feet with bright excited hazel eyes as he shook his pelt to relieve himself of the after-itch now that his fur had all grown in.

Liberated, Dean crouches down to Sam's level and scruffs his hands through the dark fur with a sigh.

Sam could sense Dean's released tension, and was grateful for his brothers' subconscious empathy. He knew that if he was to shift, and the pain came back – Dean would have felt it as much as Sam. Maybe not physically, but emotionally – Dean would be right there with him.

"You good, Sammy?" John asked, a shadow of a smile on his face as his eyes were locked on the wolf in the room.

Sam's tongue lolled out of his mouth and his thick black tail wagged eagerly as he turned around in a quick circle to show his father and brother that he was indeed, alright.

Dean ruffled the fur on his brothers' head as he smiled downward. "Alright kiddo, why don't you shift back so we can talk?"

Sam nodded in agreement as he ran his tongue up Dean's palm affectionately. Upon the wet contact, Dean pulled his hand away from his brothers' head as if he were burnt and shook the saliva off with a disgusted look on his face.

"Aw…that's gross, dude!" Dean exclaimed, even though with him being a wolf himself, licking really wasn't that disgusting. It was just the way animals expressed certain emotions to others.

With Sam and Dean, it was strictly non-romantic nor incestuous affection.

Sam huffed as he trotted away from Dean and John while he headed toward the open bathroom door. Once inside, he kicked the door closed behind him and began to shift back to human shape – this time, sparing his father and brother the awkwardness of seeing him in his birthday suit.

Dean rolled his eyes and quickly bent down and gathered the clothes that Sam had just shed into his arms from off the floor. Once all the articles were together, Dean straightened himself up and walked toward the closed bathroom door.

On the other side of the door, Dean heard the popping, grinding, and cracking of Sam's bones as he shifted, but no screams of agony, which Dean found reassuring.

He then knocked on the door quickly and dropped the clothes on the ground in front of the bathroom.

"You forgot your clothes, princess. They're outside the bathroom door." Dean informed teasingly as he turned and headed toward his duffel to put his own clothes on since he himself was still in nothing but his boxers.

Once both brothers were dressed, and Sam emerged from the bathroom – they rejoined their father and began debating about their next move. Sam took his place back on his bed, while Dean sat on the end of his own. Their father decided against sitting, and picked up a slow pace back and forth between the two beds as he thought.

Sam picked up his icepack from the nightstand and replaced the melted ice against his forehead, resuming its job in numbing his head – though admittedly, his head hurt a little less now that a certain stress had been lifted, but the pounding in his skull still hadn't disappeared completely.

"What are we gonna do about these other kids?" Dean asked curiously, his eyes locked on his father as he continued to pace back and forth.

"Well like I said, there's Andy…but he hasn't turned…so far as I can tell." John said sounding slightly distracted.

"Should we go talk to him, then? Tell him about the Demon?" Sam suggested with a minor shrug.

"I think I might do that." John agreed with a nod, again his attention didn't seem to be fully there.

"Well shouldn't Dean and I go?" Sam wondered aloud, after all he and Andy and the other kids seemed to be going through the same thing…well almost.

"No." John replied strictly, his attention suddenly on Sam fully as he stopped pacing and faced his youngest, "I don't want you near these kids. The Demon could decide to use one of them as a trap to get to you, and I don't wanna risk it."

"Well then what do you suggest we do?" Sam asked, his anger suddenly spiking. There John goes again, kicking them that whole 'Heroic-Father' routine. What he didn't seem to understand was that he and Dean were grown, and definitely not stupid…they could take care of themselves.

"I caught wind of another hunt, I need you boys to go ahead and check it out. I'll take care of Gallagher." John assured them sternly, knowing Sam wasn't gonna go for it.

"What kind of hunt?" Dean interjected before Sam could inhale enough to start yelling.

"Poltergeist in New Jersey…I would go myself, but this is more important."

"So why not let us come with you? We're stronger as a family, dad." Sam argued as he sat up a little.

"No we're not. I can't watch my own back when I'm worried about you two." John snapped, begging Sam to see it his way.

"You mean you can't be as reckless!" Sam growled out, "This is crap."

"Look, I promise to only talk to the kid. Then when I'm done with him…I'll text you coordinates telling you where we can meet up. Is that any better?" John compromised desperately.

Sam looked at his father with a wide defiant glare, but quickly caught sight of Dean. His older brother looked tense as if he were readying himself for jumping into a fight. He hated it when Sam and John fought…which was all the time.

"Sounds like a good plan." Dean agreed with a nod.

Sam exhaled sharply, and averted his eyes to his feet. This was far from over, he knew. His father could go ahead and have his little victory by going to talk to this other kid…but when they met up again, Sam was sure they would have the same argument, involving a slightly different case.

Taking Sam's lowered head as a victory, John sighed. "I'll leave in the morning. I suggest you boys do the same. I'll text you soon."

With that, John left their room quickly – slamming it shut behind them. Sam kept his eyes on the door behind his father trying to get his anger back under control.

"Why do you always gotta argue with him?" Dean rounded on Sam the moment their father was out of earshot.

"Why do you always follow his orders so blindly? You never question anything he spits at you!" Sam snapped, his frustrations being taken out on Dean now.

But Dean wouldn't hear it; he brushed his brother off agitatedly – ignoring Sam's retort. They both knew their dad would never tell them to do anything that would put them in harm's way, so why would Sam question it?

Sam growled with annoyance as he lowered his body back down on his bed. He hated the fact that Dean didn't have a mind of his own, he tried so hard to be their father, it was heartbreaking for Sam to watch. Did Dean really not like himself _that much_ that he constantly feels the need to be someone else?

But of course as usual, whenever Sam brought something up anywhere near Dean's emotional vulnerability, he would shrug it off and make some joke.

Sam sighed deeply, feeling his anger dissipate at the thought of his brother.

This was something they were going to have to work on.


End file.
